


Monsters, Men, and Gods

by Rainbow_Femme



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M, Pacific Rim - Freeform, Pacific Rim AU, generally follows the original song of achilles plot, patrochilles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Femme/pseuds/Rainbow_Femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At thirteen Patroclus is reluctantly sent aboard the Phthia to work in the fight against the attacking kaiju as a medic. Achilles is the almost supernaturally talented son of the retired commander Peleus and his ex co pilot Thetis and is soon to be one of the most celebrated pilots in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To New Beginnings

Everyone who stepped foot onto the Phthia was required to drift with a fellow recruit in a simulation, their commanders attempts at making sure that if there were to be an unknown diamond in the rough, it would not go overlooked. Everyone was required, except for Patroclus, and for this he was grateful. His father had made a very convincing case that Patroclus might have certain memories that would disturb the other recruits and ostracize him even more than he already would be, and that there was no chance of him having any untapped potential for combat. It was a shameless attempt at saving face by his father but it did not stop him from being grateful. He knew no one would look at him and see an ace pilot in the making, he certainly did not see one when he looked in the mirror, so no one would find it strange when he was immediately placed under the care of the head medic on board and skipped any combat training.

He was one of the youngest in his batch of recruits, only just making the thirteen year old minimum by two weeks. As he was jostled around by the other boys and girls his age he couldn't help the wandering of his eyes as he surveyed the launch bay. Towering Jaegers went for as far as the eye could see, and it was truly difficult to imagine that two average sized pilots could possibly control such monsters. At the center of it all was the newly retired Deus Machina, their commanders old Jaeger with one of the highest recorded kill streaks. Gleaming a polished silver and bronze it seemed to shine like a beacon to the prospective pilots around him. Everyone knew that barely half of them would become pilots, but it had become the dream of nearly every child in the world. And standing at the helm of all this was Commander Peleus, a beaming man about his fathers age in a crisp blue suit decorated with medals that gleamed as brightly as his Jaeger. And by his side was his son, the golden boy that at 13, had already been hailed as the probable savior of humanity against the Kaiju.

Patroclus could still hear his father's words ringing in his head.  _That is what a son should be._ Patroclus had been only nine when the special had aired on the news, that the son of two of the greatest pilots had already been accepted into the pilot academy and was being trained by the best tutors the world had to offer. He had watched as a clip ran of Achilles sparring with adult men nearly twice his size and beating them easily, his simulator scores nearly beating that of his father and mother. Practically super human, he sat in the richly plushed chair between his father and the host and beamed like a child let loose in a candy store. He knew the entire world was counting on him, and rather than running and hiding as Patroclus was sure he would have done in that situation, he seemed to embrace it all as if it were one glorious game just for him. 

"That is what a son should be." He looked to his father, who was staring intently at the television, a grim look on his face. He was no star athlete, no great pilot to be. In a time before parents might want children to be doctors or lawyers, or perhaps to follow in their footsteps career-wise. But ever since the Jaeger program, everyone wanted a pilot. And if a parent learned that their child would never become one, even the best could not hide their disappointment. And his father was hardly the best.

Shying away from the memory, Patroclus looked back up at Achilles, still smiling as if he had not stopped in the last four years. His dark skin seemed to make his golden hair shine even brighter in the brightly lit bay. The boy was looking down at the batch of new recruits happily, surveying them with glee. His own face flushed and he looked down. The less he was noticed by anyone, the better. 

"Welcome!" A booming voice rang out and he could not stop himself from jumping slightly. He looked back up to see Commander Peleus smiling warmly down at them. "We are happy to welcome you new recruits aboard the great Phthia! You are the best and brightest of your age and I know that you will make us all proud in our fight against the Kaiju terror!"

The crowd around him clapped and cheered and even Patroclus felt his spirits somewhat lift. Even if he couldn't be a pilot, he felt he could at least do _something_ to help the Jaeger program. 

His temporary lift of spirit very quickly fell when he saw he was being herded along with the rest of the recruits to the test chambers for their first drift.

"Wait! Wait I'm not supposed to do this, I'm not a candidate!" His heart hammered in his chest and he could feel his breath quicken. Luckily he felt a large hand clamp down on his shoulder and he turned to see one of the biggest men he'd ever seen. Dark, broad, and so tall he had to tilt his head back to see his face, Chiron was not what he would have imagined a medic to be. He looked more like a pilot than a man on the side working with bandages and salves, but he'd heard that Chiron was as good a medic as Peleus had been as a pilot. He had saved more pilots more times than anyone could count. He smiled ever so slightly down at Patroclus.

"Relax, recruit. You're to come with me." He began steering him away and Patroclus felt his shoulders sag with immense relief. The chatter of the others fell away as he was led to the sick wing. Pilots covered in bandages were milling about, laughing and bumping each others shoulders good naturedly. He was the youngest of anyone there but that was alright. He felt at ease among the smell of antiseptic and freshly laundered hospital sheets. It smelled clean and safe, a place for getting better, not getting hurt.

Chiron led him past a wall of photos and pretended not to notice as Patroclus slowed down to look at them all. He recognized almost all of them from the trading cards everyone at school had. He'd never bought them, he did not want to open the discussion of pilots with his father, but he had borrowed enough during free time to know all their faces. Helen and Menelaus in the Trojan Horse, gleaming golden and powerful. Odysseus and Penelope beside The Cyclops and it's signature single large and unblinking eye.

Finally he came to a full stop in front of the largest photo of a young commander Peleus and his ex co pilot, Thetis. Even in the faded old picture she was intimidating. Nearly two inches taller than her co pilot, she stood deathly pale and unsmiling, her fingers like claws as she clutched her helmet at her side, an excuse to not hold her partners hand. It was a poorly kept secret that she had been the first choice for commander but had turned it down. Many secrets about the two of them were poorly kept. She had only grudgingly allowed herself to be partnered with Peleus, who she saw as grossly inferior. The commander at the time had given her very little choice; he wanted his two best to be paired together. It was either work with Peleus or find herself a new job. It was also no secret that Peleus had been in love with her and that she had been far less than enthused with him. When she had tried to retire, he had made it nearly impossible, signing them up for nearly every drop to keep her too occupied to go through the proper procedures. It wasn't until she seduced him and purposely became pregnant that she was able to escape. Pregnant pilots were immediately grounded and could not fight.

Peleus had seen it as the opportunity he had been hoping for, that Thetis had come around and they could have a family. Only, Thetis disappeared immediately and was unreachable for the full nine months of her pregnancy. By the time the child was born, all the paper work had been filled and she was officially deactivated. She meant too leave with the child and never see Peleus or the Jaeger program again, but he was not satisfied with the situation. At six he had Achilles tested for his pilot potential, far too early for anyone else but even at that age he was showing promise. When a minor showed promise in becoming a pilot the government had the authority to take custody, especially when one of the parents could continue to be their legal guardian. It was said that when Peleus had come to take Achilles, she had promised that if they made her son a pilot he would be killed in the war, an eerie prediction that everyone openly regarded as the words of a concerned mother, but worried it was an accurate forecast by someone who knew the war better than anyone else, who had watched pilot after pilot killed alongside her. She still visited occasionally, but only off the ship and away from the Jaegers and everything to do with her past.

Chiron gently cleared his throat and Patroclus hurried to catch up, embarrassed by his staring. He was to be living with people like this now, he couldn't see them as heroes. Not if it was his job to to bandage them and take care of them. They had to be just like anyone else. But as he looked at the slightly wounded pilots around him, it was hard. These were people he had grown up watching on television and idolizing. He had spent two weeks piecing together the shakily recorded footage of Cyclops' first fight that he found online just so he could watch their fighting style, the way they moved with such precision and speed, like it was controlled by one person rather than two. He could still run through every move in his head when he closed his eyes. It was hard not to see them as god-like when they could defeat monsters like Kaiju. One minute they were men and women milling about and drinking coffee, but in a moment they could be hundreds of stories tall and nearly invincible. He imagined it was as close to being a god that someone could be. 

Setting his things down on a small cot by the wall, he surveyed the surroundings that would be his new home from now on. He had been on board for less than an hour but he already felt more at home than he ever did with his father. The pilots and fellow medics were smiling at him, no one was yelling. Maybe he really could be happy here. He just had to write to his father and tell him he was unhappy to ensure his stay, and everything would be fine.

\--

His days were busy, but enjoyable. He woke early to help Chiron gather the supplies needed for the day. Days when there were no attacks meant tending to the healing or helping anyone who sprained a wrist or an ankle during training. He cleaned, he cooked, he carried boxes from one end of the sick wing to another, and it wasn't long before he could feel his muscles firming and the work becoming easier. He grew tall and strong and occasionally wished his father could see that he had grown out of the thin little child he used to be.

His only time with the other children his age were during meals, which Chiron insisted he eat with them. It was awkward at first, he had missed out on the bonding of training, but he soon found a friend in a girl his age named Briseis. She did not speak English as well as the others and had not become close with many of the other children, so Patroclus would talk with her as much as he could, although most of their conversations quickly fell into a game of charades that left them both laughing until their sides hurt. When this happened, he would often look up to see Achilles watching him from another table with a strange look on his face that made his stomach flip in a strange way. He could never meet his gaze very long, his face heating with embarrassment for an unknown reason.

This went on for five mostly quiet years. After two, Achilles was officially deployed as a Jaeger pilot with his mentor Phoinix in the Aristos Achaion, an enormous gleaming Jaeger that, to Patroclus, seemed to make all others fall dim in comparison. He was the youngest pilot and soon proved that his age was not a hindrance as he killed Kaiju after Kaiju with apparent ease, often laughing that he had hoped for more of a challenge.

After any fight that ended on land Chiron would take him to where it fell to harvest whatever parts could be useful. His stomach often turned at the sight of the great dead monsters, but he prided himself in being able to keep the down the bile and help Chiron as best he could to get them both out of there as soon as possible. He hated the scent of the monster's burnt flesh or the unblinking stare of its dead eyes. He did not understand how Achilles could look at something like that and not think of it as a challenge.

The day it all changed, everything started as usual. He ate with Briseis and her training partner Deidameia, both laughing as Briseis mimed the dying Kaiju clip that played at the end of every simulations when an alarm sounded overhead, signaling an attack. In a moment, everyone was running. The pilots and the recruits who had become engineers to their Jaegers to hear if they were being dropped, those still in training to the control room to watch the monitors along with the recruits who had become technicians, and Patroclus and those who had become medics to the sick bay to prepare any materials they might need if the pilots came back injured. 

Chiron was setting down a radio as the entered. "The Aristos is going in, I want duplicates of any medicines we might need ready within the hour. If you do not know how to account for height and weight, ask Patroclus for assistance. If not, help anyone who needs it so we can be ready as soon as they need us." They all nodded and hurried to their stations. In instances like this, Patroclus was in charge of the painkillers. As he gathered and measured, he found a thick knot of worry in the pit of his stomach. He had heard it was the biggest category three they had seen so far. As a few recruits asked him about what antibiotics would be needed and if they should reclean any surgical tools, he tried to tell himself that Achilles was more than capable of handling this as he had all the others. And if not, what did it matter to him? Achilles was just another pilot, one he did not even know. It was his job to worry after someone got hurt, not before.

It was nearly two hours later that Chiron burst back into the sick bay. "We're needed on the deck ASAP, we've got one unconscious pilot and one that spent eighteen minutes piloting solo. I need four with me and four waiting here as backup." Patroclus ran after Chiron while the other medics carried the supplies, his heart beating the fastest it had in years. Achilles was hurt, no matter which he was. When they reached the deck he saw Achilles, still in his full gear, covered in water and being supported by two other pilots, tracks of blood running along his jaw and down his neck. He had the overwhelming urge to go to him, but Chiron pointed him towards where Phoinix lay on a blanket to his left, his forehead bleeding. As he cleaned the wound and checked for signs of a concussion as Phoinix slowly woke, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to Achilles and whether he really was going to be alright. He had heard of pilots in other parts of the world piloting alone, but never successfully, and _never_ for that long. And yet, even with what should have been enough to possibly kill him, he was still laughing weakly and cracking jokes to the recruits cleaning him and giving him intravenous painkillers as they prepped him for more extensive tests. Patroclus could not help but admire him. Peleus was standing to the side and beaming proudly as Achilles walked away with some assistance to the sick wing. _He really is everything a son should be._

That night, Patroclus let his mind wander to Achilles again. Although this time, it was not Achilles the pilot or Achilles the patient that he found himself thinking of, but Achilles the rather attractive man he had become. He had grown tall and lean, his skin having grown even darker by hard training sessions out in the sun that Patroclus had occasionally watched with the other recruits, his muscles moving fluidly as he practiced fighting with a staff, a sword, a spear, or simply his bare hands. Almost everyone had fought him at some point for the challenge and excitement, but Patroclus had always hung back. He was strong, and he had grown fast out of necessity, but he was no fighter. He lacked the instincts or the finesse for anything but a challenge of brute strength. And even then, he often threw the competitions to make the other recruits happy. But as he imagined those training sessions again, he began to wish he could fight Achilles, wish he could get up close to those lithe muscles and those brilliant green eyes. 

Shaking his head, he tried to distract himself. These were not things he should be thinking about, not about one of the pilots. Sure everyone on board had crushes occasionally, especially on Achilles, but Patroclus could not afford to do that. Not on someone whose life could depend on him one day. He couldn't afford to let himself be compromised, not like earlier. It was dangerous for him and it could be dangerous for Achilles. He sighed, covering his eyes with his forearm and distracted himself by reciting every medicine they had on hand and what they were used for.

The next morning he thought his temporary madness might have subsided and left him perfectly fine with no emotional attachments to Achilles or any other pilot, all until Achilles walked into the sick wing, asking for him. Warily he walked over, a question poised on his lips when Achilles simply told him to walk with him, which he did silently, confused and awestruck. They headed out of the sick wing and towards the center of the base, Achilles staying silent except for his occasional humming or friendly greetings to anyone who passed them. After a few silent minutes, Patroclus awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Um, Achilles?"

"Yes?" Achilles turned his head slightly towards Patroclus without breaking his quick stride, taking a sharp left and leading them further down a corridor Patroclus did not recognize.

"Where exactly are we going?" He looked around, trying to remember what this part of the ship was used for.

"Drift simulation. Chiron says to heal I need to drift under stressless conditions to reacclimate."

Patroclus was speechless with nausea and horror as Achilles held open the simulator door for him and waved for him to step inside. He wanted to protest, dig his heels in and blatantly refuse, claim an excuse, or simply run the other way, but Achilles was watching him expectantly and he found himself walking inside and over to the drift helmet on the far side of the room, his legs barely supporting his weight as Achilles followed on his heels and began strapping himself in.

With shaking fingers, Patroclus did the same.


	2. Made of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it's not horribly interesting, you know how background chapters are. This one and part of the next needed to establish backstories and whatnot.

Patroclus had gone over this scenario a thousand times in his head. His greatest fear had always been someone forcing him to drift with them. He knew they would be disgusted with him, they would never see him the same afterwards. In his anxiety-fueled nightmares, it would often be Briseis or Chiron who would drift with him, the two people he cared about most and would hate losing. But now, even though he had never even spoken to Achilles before that day, he felt even more afraid than he had in those scenarios. At least they knew him and loved him for who he was now. Achilles did not know him at all and this would be his first, and most likely last, impression.

Taking a deep breath and resigning himself to his fate, he latched the helmet and turned it on as Achilles did the same. At first it was like being struck by lightning, a coursing of electricity being forced through his body and paralyzing him. And then, he felt himself being pulled as if by a current. He wanted to fight it, to keep Achilles out, but he knew fighting a current was the quickest way to be drowned by it. His only choice was to let it happen.

His own memories came first. It was a sensation unlike he had ever felt before. He was standing in his own memories, watching himself. He was four and his father was away for the weekend so his mother had taken him to the beach. She had her fingers and toes buried in the sand and her head back, eyes closed, soaking up the warm sun. He was standing up to his knees in the water and skipping stones, calling out to his mother every time it skipped more than twice, his eyes alight with excitement. He turned to the side and jumped slightly to see Achilles standing off to his right, watching the memory with him. As Achilles began turning to him, the memory faded away and others began flashing by him faster than he could watch, but he recognized many of them. Birthdays, holidays, his first day of school. His face heated as he saw the memory of watching the special on Achilles with his father, feeling Achilles initial amusement at how he looked, then shock at Patroclus' fathers words. Then something like sympathy that Patroclus shied away from, blocking out. He didn't want sympathy, to be looked at like a pathetic child still at his father's mercy. 

His heart began to race as the memories slowed and stopped on another, forcing him to watch the entire thing. He didn't want to watch, he wanted to look away. But he couldn't, he was rooted to the spot. It was the day the Kaiju had attacked his town. Even though they lived near the ocean, no one had really thought they would be attacked. The monsters only seemed to attack large cities and they certainly weren't that. But it seemed to know they would be unprepared, and one early Sunday morning it came.

Patroclus had been sitting in the living room with his mother, reading a comic book on the floor while she read a magazine on the couch. The radio had been on softly. An earsplitting roar had erupted from outside, shaking the house. He had dropped his comic and his mother dove for him, pulling him away from the windows and calling his father, who had already heard it at work and was being evacuated with everyone else. He saw himself and his mother huddled in the kitchen, the sound of the slow, heavy foot steps shaking the earth around them, his mother holding her hands over his ears and murmuring that everything would be ok, but he had known that the only way to get to the city was through their town, and towns did not do well under the foot of a Kaiju. 

He knew it was just a memory but he couldn't stop the racing of his heart as the sounds became louder, as the shadow slowly fell over their house and a dull silence fell. And then that breathing, the horrible wet breathing. And then, the world exploded.

A thick tail swiped through their house, taking out the entire top floor. Wood rained down on them and his mother screamed. Patroclus had just sat their silently, unable to move or breathe. The door flew open and he had expected it to be the Kaiju, breaking a clawed arm in to grab them, but it had been his father. He had moved towards them, opening his mouth to yell to them, when that clawed hand came through the roof onto them. His mother screamed again and even then, with the real Patroclus standing to the side and watching, he could still feel the burn of the claw raking his back as it came down, pinning him and his mother. He looked up and could see the lone forked tongue above them, glowing blue and dripping. He saw his father look at them. He could not pull both of them out, he had to choose. And after a moment, he lunged forward and grabbed young Patroclus by the arms and jerked him from the claws, turned and ran with him over his shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the next part. The way his mother screamed was bad enough, but the worst was the sudden silence followed by footsteps as the Kaiju began heading towards the city once again.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Achilles was looking at him and he couldn't meet his gaze as the memories began fast forwarding again, blinking back the tears. Memories of moving began going by, finding a new home, moving what was left of his things in, the bareness glaring without his mothers things around the house. He had wanted so badly for what his father had done to mean he loved him, but he knew in his heart that it wasn't. In 12 years of marriage his mother had gotten pregnant only once and with no lack of trying. She couldn't give him another child and to him, that made her less useful than even the great disappointment that Patroclus was. He was a businessman choosing an investment.

He could feel Achille's feelings stronger now, no matter how hard he tried to block them out. Sadness, sympathy, and guilt over forcing all of this onto Patroclus all over again. For his part, Patroclus tried not to let himself be stuck in the memory that he knew would be next but he couldn't. Everyone said that the stronger the memory, the harder it was to stop yourself from attaching to it. And he had skipped all drift training, having foolishly believed it would never be necessary. And so they came to a stop on the roof of his old school where he was sitting and playing with a pair of dice his fathers business partner had given him. He wanted the boy not to walk up the stairs this time but he did. Even after all this time he still felt intimidating.

"What are those?" The boy pointed to the dice in his hands. Each side had a different color on it and he liked to try and throw them so they would all come up one color. He closed his fingers over them.

"They're nothing." He tried to put them into his pocket but the boy grabbed his hand.

"Give them to me." His grip tightened, making Patroclus wince.

"No, they're mine. Buy your own." He jerked away and stood to run for the stairs but the boy grabbed him again, harder.

"I want yours." The boy grinned wickedly. "I'm going to need something to do on break on the Phthia. I'm going in a month, they're gonna make me a pilot. _You_ could never be a pilot. You're just..." He paused, cocking his head to the side. "You know, I can't even insult you. There's not enough to you to insult. You're just nothing. And nothing doesn't deserve dice, the Kaiju resistance should have it." He made for another grab and Patroclus was done with him, done with people like him and his father and everyone else who just decided what would happen to him and his life. So when the boy got close, he shoved. 

He had planned on the boy falling onto his backside and sputtering in embarrassment while Patroclus ran, but he stumbled further than Patroclus had thought he would in an attempt to catch himself, and tripped over the lip of the roof, tumbling off. Patroclus told himself that it was only one floor up and he wouldn't be hurt, but he forgot about the pavement underneath. He remembered when the screaming started.

When the ambulance workers came, they would say that the boy had broken his femur and fractured his hip, that he would be left with a permanent limp. And people with severe limps could not be pilots.

The boys parents wanted Patroclus arrested but there was no proof of what had or had not happened or that the boy hadn't simply tripped himself, and the boy couldn't remember anything from before walking up the stairs. Patroclus had insisted it was an accident and no one could prove otherwise.

But his father was smart. He knew something had to be done to spin things the way he wanted them. So, he agreed that Patroclus should be expelled, placating the parents. Then enrolled Patroclus into the Jaeger program in the boys spot. If people were going to assume his son pushed the boy on purpose, then they would also assume it was because of pure ambition. They would think him cold and calculating and he wouldn't be anywhere near them for to remind them otherwise.

The memories began sliding by faster and all Patroclus wanted to do was sink into the earth and disappear. Why did all of his good memories have to fly by and the bad ones linger? Everyone knew you weren't supposed to let that happen. Did he not have any self control? 

He wanted to run, he never wanted to see Achilles again. He hadn't told Briseis about his life before the Phthia, or Chiron, or any of the other recruits he had talked with. But now Achilles knew, and what was stopping him from telling everyone? Telling them that he had mutilated a fellow student, that his family's response was to use a child nearly dying for personal gain, that at night he could still hear that terrible shrieking roar when the wind was howling outside the ship-

A hand closed around his own, squeezing slightly. He opened his eyes and looked to his right to see a misty eyed Achilles, stopping his train of thought. He didn't look horrified or disgusted, at least not at Patroclus. He seemed pained, like he wanted to take the helmet off Patroclus just as much Patroclus wanted to take it off himself and promise to forget the whole thing, that he should have asked first, that he should have known there was a reason this was his first time. But before any of that could happen, he felt another current sweep them both, only this time it seemed to be taking them not into his past, but Achilles'.

 


	3. This and This and This

Falling into Achilles' memories was different than falling into his own, like putting on clothes that were ever so slightly the wrong size. He knew that Achilles should be able to keep any one memory from slowing more than the other, but they still stopped in one. Achilles couldn't be any older than four, playing with Kaiju and Jaeger action figures, making exaggerated sound effects as he played. Patroclus wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and chuckled. He knew Achilles was trying to make him feel better and part of him wanted it not to work, but it was such a sweet effort. Achilles tried a smile at him as his younger self made fake screaming noises as the Kaiju fell of the table, following it with an explosion noise as it hit the ground. 

His mother walked in then, picking up the toy, looking at it for a moment longer than necessary before handing it back to him.

"Be more careful, Achilles. You don't want them to break." He nodded happily and went back to playing as she walked away, the memory fading. More began moving by and he could see Achilles watching them intently, waiting for one specifically.

"Achilles, you don't have to do this..." He tried to stop him but another had already started. Achilles was about six and sitting in what appeared to be a principals office of a primary school, his little feet swinging as he sat looking at a younger Peleus and two men Patroclus didn't recognize. 

"Achilles, these men would like to ask you a few things. Is that alright?" Little Achilles nodded and kept swinging his legs, humming a made up melody.

Peleus cleared his throat. "Achilles, do you know who we are?"

Achilles shook his head, knocking his feet together rhythmically to the beat of his song. Peleus nodded. "Well, we used to be Jaeger pilots, just like the one on your backpack. And we'd like to play some games with you for a few days this week, if that's ok with you."

Achilles grinned and nodded. He loved games, but no one would ever play with him. The other kids accused him of cheating because he always won. "Can we play now?"

Peleus smiled and nodded. "We sure can."  And so the tests began. Tests of agility, of strength, of adaptability. They had him running through obstacle courses, dodging balls and fighting holograms. Patroclus was glad he'd never had to do any of this, but Achilles seemed to be having a wonderful time "playing" with the retired pilots as they took notes and looked at each other with raised eyebrows and tentative smiles. 

Patroclus had hoped to watch more but they began flying by faster than he could see, only able to catch vague flashes. He saw Thetis' bitterly impassive face as Peleus took Achilles away. He had been curious to see if the rumor of Thetis predicting Achilles' death was true, but he could understand wanting to skip it. He could feel that Achilles didn't want to watch any of this again so he let it go, watching Achilles instead. He was beginning to feel weird, like he could occasionally not only feel the things Achilles was feeling, but thinking his thoughts with him. It reminded him of the time he and Briseis had a day off and tried pot for the first time when they were fifteen.

But by the chuckle that came from Achilles, he could tell it wasn't just him picking up on thoughts not his own. The memories slowed again and he felt Achilles sober. Achilles was maybe 12 and walking into the drift chamber, fidgeting nervously as he was escorted in and taught how to work the helmet. Patroclus could feel his excitement and he didn't blame him. For most pilots, finding the person they would be drift compatible was half the reason they entered the program in the first place. Like a soulmate, someone whose mind was a perfect compliment to your own. Unlike Thetis and Peleus, nearly every pilot team either became romantically involved or best friends for life, if they weren't related. It was no coincidence that many of the best teams were married.

So he was just as surprised as little Achilles when the man began putting the other helmet on himself.

"We're drift compatible?" Achilles looked at him nervously, fidgeting with the straps.

The man barely looked up. "Huh? Oh, no. This is just for today, and it'll be Bryce tomorrow. You got your straps tightened enough?"

Achilles looked at him slightly horrified but did as he was told, tightening his straps obediently so the helmet wouldn't slide. Drifting with someone he had never met, who he might very well not be drift compatible with? How could Peleus have allowed that?

The memory stopped short and others began to move, Achilles obviously not wanting to watch anymore, but Patroclus was still horrified by all the things he saw. Achilles being made to drift with adult after adult, being forced to see parts of adult life that no twelve year old should, forced to feel their pain at watching their friends killed by Kaiju in battle, the pain of having forty new years of memories forced into his head every day, Peleus explaining distantly that they felt it would make him compatible with any pilot they needed to put him with when the time was right, Achilles smiling and nodding dutifully  and doing everything he was told, only to cry later when he was alone in his room, his head pounding and his stomach sick. Patroclus wanted to... He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he wanted to do _something,_ he felt terribly that Achilles had to go through this.

Achilles pointedly moved past those blocks of time, smiling a little as he stopped on a memory of new recruits coming in, only for Patroclus to jump a little as he realized it was his group. When he was in it it had seemed like a million other children, but from above they all looked so small. He could even pick himself out of the crowd, his little dark head sticking out next to a light haired boy who would become an engineer a few years later. The memory changed to Achilles being surrounded by nearly all of them at lunch, all of them laughing at something he said. At the time, Patroclus had always seen Achilles as having the time of his life but now he could see the strain in the smile as the other kids were obviously trying too hard to be his friend. He could feel that Achilles knew it too, knew they only wanted him because of what he was, not who he was. That whenever he asked why they liked him or wanted to be his friend, they would simply answer "Because you're Achilles!" Young Achilles turned his head and watched Briseis and Patroclus at their little table by themselves. Patroclus recognized that day; Briseis had been struggling with the names of foods so he had taken it upon himself to teach her, only it had quickly devolved into them taking turns miming different foods. Briseis had her head in her arms with her shoulders shaking with laughter as Patroclus was miming being spaghetti, his eyes crossed.

Different memories began passing in front of them, a feeling of stunned confusion coming over Patroclus as he he saw that Achilles had been trying to get his attention. Moving his training onto the deck in the hope he would watch, opening the training for other kids to spar him in hopes that he would offer to try. But he never did, he always hung back and watched from afar. And then when he got hurt and had to pilot on his own, how he had been truly terrified for the first time in his life, only to have to keep up his cool and unaffected demeanor on the deck and joke around with the others. How he had seen Patroclus running up the stairs behind Chiron, a look of concern plain on his face. Achilles had hoped he would come over, and tried not to feel too disappointed when Chiron was the one to examine him while Patroclus helped Phoinix.

And then in the sick bay with Chiron telling him he needed to drift with someone casually a few times to reacclimate himself before fighting again, giving him a list of simple exercises to do that would keep any permanent damage from forming. Achilles running through all of his friends in his head to pick one, only to realize that he would want none of them in his head. So, he had picked the one person he couldn't disappoint because he seemed to be completely uninterested in the first place.

The memories finally all faded away and they were left next to each other, Patroclus blushing a bit when he realized they were still holding hands. 

Swallowing, he let go to wipe his hands on his pants. He smirked a little when he saw Achilles automatically doing the same. They both chuckled awkwardly.

"That's the weird part, you can't ever tell whose idea is whose." He smiled and looked down, taking a deep breath. "Alright then. Look, this was obviously a bad idea, I shouldn't have made you do this. I can turn it off."

Patroclus smiled at him, touched. "No, really. We've already gone through the hard part." He reached forward for the paper only to blink in confusion, the paper as well as the table it was on no longer in front of him like it was a second ago. Achilles laughed and held it up.

"Sorry, that happens too. In a Jaeger you're looking at the same stuff and don't have to worry about it. It's harder in a cluttered room, you get double vision. Okay, first off... Touching our fingers to our noses."

"It is not, you're making that up."

He laughed. "You're in my brain, I can't lie to you. See?" He waved the sheet in front of him, Patroclus' arm waving in unison of its own accord, making them both laugh.

"Oh shut up, I'm just not used to it. You're doing it on purpose anyway." Achilles grinned wickedly and even if he wasn't speaking, Patroclus could hear the "Maaaaaaybe," as clearly as if he had said it aloud. 

They began by touching their noses, rolling their toes, rocking from the balls of their feet to their heels. It was strange, feeling two different pairs of feet in two different pairs of shoes, feeling two different shirts on his back and hearing himself echoed in someone else's mind. At one point, Patroclus jerked his arm up towards his face to make Achilles do the same, laughing when he yelped in surprise. Achilles then waited for Patroclus to drink from a glass of water to jerk his own hand and spill it all over him. 

By the end of the hour they were both red faced from laughter and soaked. It was a little jarring, taking the helmets off. He had gotten used to how it felt having Achilles there in his head, feeling another mind and body beyond his own. He felt smaller, like part of him had been cut off.

Achilles was still giggling from tricking Patroclus into doing half of the Macarena before realizing they weren't exercises. "So..." He stretched his arms over his head. "Same time tomorrow?" His smile was a little uneasy, like he was afraid the answer would be no.

Patroclus smiled and rolled his shoulders. "Sure. That was... Fun."

Achilles tentative smile turned into a full, shining grin like an internal light had been flipped on. "Ok, right. Good. See you then."

Patroclus watched him get halfway down the hall before taking a step forward. "Will you go easy on me?"

Achilles frowned. "Will I what?"

He grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. "If I spar with you during training today, will you go easy on me?"

Achilles face lit up. "No way, I saw you throw all those matches against those other kids in your memories. You're not getting off that easy."

Patroclus nodded. "I'm gonna kick your ass then, Pelides."

"I'd like to see you try!"

Walking away, Patroclus had to rub his face to work out the soreness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had that much fun for that long. Chiron gave him a strange look when he walked back into the sick bay but didn't press, just let him get on with his work as usual, although he found he spent the rest of the morning with a pleasant melody stuck in his head, and for once, he couldn't wait for his break. 

 


	4. Like the Dawn

Patroclus' excitement about their sparring match lasted through lunch and until he was halfway up the stairs to the main deck, at which time the events of the morning officially hit him.  _I'm gonna kick your ass Pelides?_ What the hell was that?! What had come over him? He never talked like that before, to anyone! God, he must have sounded like such an idiot!

He wanted to turn and run right back down the stairs and hide until Achilles forgot all about him. But there was a group of thirteen year olds behind him chattering excitedly about watching the match and blocking his only way of escape, so he slowly made his way up and into a shadowed part of the deck while the kids hurried by. The deck was usually cluttered with recruits in their lessons or relaxing and chatting, but now they were all clustered around the largest arena where Achilles was stretching shirtless. Patroclus immediately looked away, terrified to look because he just  _knew_ that Achilles would be looking for this memory tomorrow to see Patroclus' reaction and he was not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he found him attractive. At least, no more than he probably already did.

He looked back to the stairwell but Achilles was already waving at him like a maniac, both arms over his head, and if he didn't get over there now, he'd probably start jumping and shouting his name until he did. Patroclus took his time walking over, taking his usual seat in the back row of the make-shift bleachers, nodding at Achilles and smiling shyly. Maybe he wouldn't remember that they were supposed to spar today. He sighed and put his head in his hands when Achilles turned away to talk to someone else. And maybe the Kaijus would apologize for bugging them and offer to pay for the damages.

"You going first today, Patroclus?" He looked up to see Achilles grinning toothily at him as he stretched into a deep lunge. There was no way he needed to be this loose for training, he had to just be showing off now.

"Oh come on, at least tire yourself out a bit and give me a fighting chance." He tried to smile past his anxieties and the growing ball of emotions growing in his stomach that he really didn't want to think about right now.

Achilles opened his mouth to respond but the sound of running feet made him look up. The trainer had a staff and was running at Achilles, who had nothing and was still in his lunge. Patroclus was sure the staff would crack right into the side of his head, but Achilles quickly ducked to the side and grabbed the staff, jerking it from the trainers hand, twirling it, and hitting him in the back of the knees with it so that the trainer fell to all fours, all in one swift motion. Patroclus had watched him fight countless times on deck but he never tired of it, watching his fluidity and the ease he moved with, like it was all a choreographed dance rather than a spontaneous fight. It was all even more magical now that he had rewatched every one of the fights through Achilles' memories and he could see how he had grown. Achilles had always been an amazing fighter, but where in his youth he had fought to embarrass his opponent as much as possible, he now fought with a quick minded precision to disable his opponent and gain the upperhand. He had used to resent him for it, for the way he would laugh and make everyone look bad on purpose, but now he could understand it. For a kid whose entire life, his entire being, was only worthwhile to people if he could fight, he always felt like he had to prove that he was better than everyone else no matter what, even if it meant being cruel to other people. If he became ordinary in any way he would lose the attention of his father and all of his friends. It was only after his first battle that he realized what he needed to practice most was ending the fight as quickly as possible.

Achilles continued sparring with the trainer, fighting with one arm behind his back or a blindfold over one eye, situations he might find himself in if he is trying to fight in a damaged Jaeger. Patroclus found himself laughing with the rest of the group when Achilles was left with one arm, blindfolded, and hopping on one foot. He finally threw his shoe at the trainer, hitting him in the ear, afterwhich he declared the session over and went grumbling down to the sick bay, leaving Achilles free to open the arena to anyone who wanted to spar with him. A few younger boys sparred with him three-on-one for some fun, then the older recruits who wanted the practice and the recognition. Most lasted under a minute, the best lasted nearly two.

Finally, when Achilles was gleaming with sweat and his sides were heaving with exertion and excitement, Patroclus stood and walked over to him as he welcomed any more competitors. Achilles grinned at the sight of him. "Finally. What's your weapon of choice?"

Patroclus shook his head. "No weapons, just hands. How about a wrestling match?" He had no training with any weapons, but he was strong and he was fast and Chiron had taught him how to wrestle well enough. Although technically, that meant Achilles now knew everything he did. Maybe he could just stiff-arm him.

They flipped a coin and Patroclus ended up on the bottom, which suited him just fine as it allowed him to hide the nervousness on his face and pretend he was just concentrating. One of Achilles' arms went around his waist while the other went to his arm. His mouth moved by Patroclus' ear, where the others could not see or hear him speak.

"I really can go easy if you would-" But the whistle blew before he could finish and Patroclus lurched forward out of his grasp and to the other side of the circle, Achilles' eyes stunned for a moment before glittering with mischief. He may not fight better, but he had longer arms and could keep him away, and Achilles would be expecting formal fighting and all Patroclus knew was informal, street fighting.

Achilles lunged forward so he flanked left, sticking his arm out so Achilles would run into it, stopped long enough for him to run away again, making Achilles laugh.

"Are we gonna fight or what?"

Patroclus grinned. "What do you think we're doing?" Achilles lunged again and he moved away again. He knew Achilles was drawing this out, he could have taken him if he wanted to, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. Every step he took Patroclus mirrored, sliding left everytime Achilles dodged right, moving back with every step forward. At one point he thought Achilles had him, grabbing his arm and twisting it hard. Patroclus had no idea what to do so he spun with it, wiggling his arm out while Achilles was laughing and managing to grab him around his waist from behind and lifting him up.

"Does this mean I beat the great Achilles?"

Achilles seemed to be lost in laughter for a minute. "Only because you cheat! Making me laugh isn't fair."

Patroclus grinned and let him go. "You have to be prepared for everything out there! Who knows, maybe the next Kaiju will attack through comedy and you need to be ready, obviously it's a weak point for you."

Achilles punched his arm playfully. "Don't you have ankles you should be rubbing?" Patroclus acquiesced and began walking back to the stairs as everyone else dispersed, only to find Achilles still at his elbow, chattering happily about their match and that Patroclus better be up for another one tomorrow and if he was going to cheat then Achilles was going to cheat too. He kept chatting happily until Patroclus made it to the sick bay, turning to him.

"You wanna come in?"

Achilles blanched, looking immediately nervous. "Really? Is that, like, allowed? I don't want to get in anybody's way." But Patroclus was already leading him in and getting him a pair of gloves.

"Just do what I say and don't lick anything sharp or oozing, you'll be fine." The nervousness seemed to subside from his face a bit and he elbowed Patroclus as he followed him.

"Ok so it's not very exciting today, but it would be awesome if you could hold his wrist while I wrap it?" Patroclus went to the bedside of a fourteen year old boy who was holding his wrist gingerly, having fallen during laps that morning. Achilles carefully held his arm at the elbow and hand while Patroclus wrapped it, talking with the boy as he did, asking questions anytime he had to tighten the gauze painfully. He asked him about how he liked being an engineer and who his friends were. By the time they were done the boy was smiling and asking them both to sign the gauze, grinning ear to ear at the thought of showing all his friends that The Achilles had helped bandage him up.

The rest of the day went quietly after that. Achilles helped him clean the instruments and restock their shelves, asking Patroclus a million questions about everything under the sun to do with medicine, completely in awe of even the simplest of things that Patroclus knew. It felt like there was no one else there but the two of them, like nothing else existed when they were talking. They both jumped when the bell went off to signify it was time for dinner, like they thought time had stopped too along with everything else.

"Well, I have to sit with my group for dinner. So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Unless you wanna sit with us?" He could hear the hope in Achilles' voice, that he really wanted Patroclus with him, but he already had his own little group and even with Achilles there it would still be very uncomfortable with all those people he didn't know. He had never been very popular and he knew some of the others resented him. Even if he wasn't a pilot, he had moved up the ranks in his own field more than anyone else had by his age. He wanted to tell them it was because he hadn't wasted the year of trying to become a pilot first, but they didn't want to hear it.

"That's ok, I've got my own table, I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow morning." Achilles nodded, a little disappointed, but Patroclus was glad he didn't push the issue. They walked to the mess hall together and Achilles gave him one last glance before heading to his overflowing table in the center of the hall. Patroclus filled his plate with a mountain of pasta and went to join Briseis and Deideima as they both excitedly waited for him, demanding details as to what the hell had happened to make him and Achilles all buddy-buddy all of a sudden. Every once in a while he would look back to Achilles' table and catch him watching his table, lost in his sea of fake affection. The distance between them seemed much farther than the span of the mess hall.

\--

It was warm that night and Patroclus was too excited to sleep. That day had been amazing and he knew the next could be just as great so long as he didn't screw it up. As long as Achilles wanted him, he would happily be whatever he needed him to be.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he headed quietly out of the sick bay and up the stairs to the main deck, taking in a deep breath of the warm ocean air. It was strange, being on the deck when it was deserted. He was so used to it being filled with light and laughter and the sounds of fists meeting flesh or weights clanging loudly against one another. He slipped past the abandoned equipment, careful not to mash his bare toes on any of the equipment and made it to the back of the ship, looking out at the water in front of him, the wind tousling his hair. It calmed him down, the constant motion of the ship. Like he wasn't trapped, like they could get away from any danger, even though he knew their job was to run towards it. At least it wasn't _his_ job specifically. He was happy waiting for the pilots to come back. He would die a happy man if he never stepped foot anywhere near a Jaeger. His view from afar was just fine.

He looked behind him when he heard the soft closing of the deck door. He had to remind himself that he wasn't breaking any rules by being out here and couldn't get into any trouble. Even if it had been five years since he'd seen his father, part of him feared his wrath coming from any sudden noise or raised voice. But the brilliant golden hair he saw making its way towards him told him he was in no danger here, so he relaxed and turned towards the sleepy face of his new friend, his brilliant green eyes bleary with sleep.

"Fancy meeting you here. You couldn't sleep either, huh?" Achilles yawned and shook his head, rubbing at his eye before leaning against the rail.

"I knew you would come here. I spent the morning in your brain, I know you now." Achilles was looking out over the water and avoiding eye contact, making Patroclus uneasy,

"Everything ok?" He hoped he hadn't ruined things by not sitting with him during dinner but Achilles shrugged his shoulders.

"It's just... I don't know." He sighed. "It's annoying, you know? Like, I finally find somebody I'm drift compatible with and you're a medic. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's so amazing that you are and you're obviously so good at it and so smart, but it just makes me mad that once we're done, I'm going to have to go back to drifting with anyone my teachers want me to and I'm going to lose this." He looked down at his hands, studying his thumbs.

Patroclus stared at him in disbelief. "We're drift compatible? How do you know?"

Achilles finally looked at him then, smiling. "I can tell. I've drifted with a lot of people and it's never been as smooth as that, even with you fighting it a bit. Everything came so easily and was so clear. And when we were sparring... It's never been like that, for me. It was always a struggle." He looked back at the water wistfully. "But I guess I should be glad for whatever we get. Pilots just have to take what we can get." Patroclus must have looked confused because he smiled at him. "How many happy pilots can you think of? We either get killed, horribly injured, or watch everyone we knew die. I don't know which is worse. My parents got the easiest lot and they're both terribly unhappy. We're cursed."

"Well, we can still drift after we're done fixing you, you know. Just for fun."

Achilles smiled sadly at him. "I'd like that."

Patroclus didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to fix this. Achilles seemed so whole on the outside but there was so much missing on the inside. Everyone he knew was taking pieces away from him, taking who he was and leaving the emptiness of what they wanted him to be. He wanted to be someone who could give back to him, to help him be a little more whole. So, he decided that taking his hand and threading their fingers together would have to do for now. Achilles smiled a little and kept looking out at the water with him, clutching his hand like it was a lifeline. Together, they watched the sun coming up over the horizon in comfortable silence.


	5. Cracks in the Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback is appreciated!

When his alarm went off the next morning, Patroclus was ready for murder; his own or someone else's, it didn't matter. Staying up past dawn with Achilles was nice and all, but two hours of sleep was not nearly enough. He felt like someone was chiseling his head in half through his eyes, and he was more than a little sore from the sparring match. Maybe he could steal some morphine and hide in a closet for the day. But the rumbling of his stomach quickly killed that idea. He needed food, and lots of it as soon as possible. So, reluctantly and with much profanity, he forced himself upright, still wearing only a pair of sweatpants. The cold was creeping through every inch of the ship and up through his toes so he grabbed an old sweatshirt Chiron had given him and slipped on his sneakers, blearily making his way up the stairs to the mess hall.

Briseis snickered as he lurched up behind her in line, his forehead falling forward onto her shoulder as he groaned. "How long would it take to kill me with one of the mess hall forks?"

She smirked and patted his head. "I wouldn't hold your breath, they've been here longer than Peleus has. I may be able to carve a shiv out of your toothbrush if you give me a minute though." He moaned pathetically even louder and let her steer him through the line, filling his tray for him with pancakes and steaming sausage patties, then helping him to their table, where he promptly imploded into a pile of drowsiness, yawning loudly. Deidameia snickered from her seat, prodding his shin with her foot until Briseis whacked her arm lightly. "Oh leave him alone, he's brain dead."

He let his head loll to the side before shoving himself upward, forcing food into his mouth. It took him nearly a full minute to notice Achilles walk into the mess hall, it wasn't until he plopped down beside Patroclus that it finally clicked in his brain.

"You're at the wrong table." He gestured to the other side of the mess hall vaguely with his head. "This is the sleep table."

Achilles' head fell to his shoulder as he yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes. His sleeves fell past his hands, making him look very young and not-Achilles-like. "Too sleepy to go any further, this is where I live now." He snagged a sausage patty of Patroclus' plate and munched sleepily, his eyes still closed while Deidameia and Briseis silently mimed their astonishment. Together, Achilles and Patroclus finished his breakfast and two cups of coffee, after which Achilles was at the very least able to open his eyes before turning to him.

"Think you're up for more drifting today?" He looked nervous again and it made Patroclus' chest hurt. He was the most loved person on this ship, possibly in the country, and yet he had such little so confidence. He seemed to constantly think that Patroclus was going to grow bored with him any instant and want nothing to do with him.

"Of course I am. But I'm going to have to nix the midnight conversation for tonight if you want me to be able to do anymore than drool through it tomorrow. And no sparring, my shoulder is killing me." He planned to say more but Achilles was grinning at him like an idiot and he couldn't continue.

"Well if it makes you feel any better once we drift mine will be too, so there's your consolation. Here, I'll get rid of these, you go get ready." And like that he was off, jogging away with their empty tray and cups. He turned back to see the girls grinning at him.

"What?"

Deidameia made kissing noises while Briseis sang "Pat and Achilles, sitting in a tree, D-r-i-f-t-i-n-g..."

Patroclus kicked her shin. "That's too many letters."

She pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. "Well the english language is not my fault. And you guys really are cute, he's all doe eyed around you." Deidameia made kissing noises again and he rolled his eyes.

"If you two are finished, I have to go drift, as I'm sure you two have to as well. I'm sure you can finish this conversation there without me." They both giggled and waved mischievously.

After showering, changing, and making sure the younger recruits could handle the morning without him, he walked back to the drift room, finally awake enough to form full, coherent sentences. Achilles was already strapping in, smiling to himself and bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, smiling wider when Patroclus came in. He quickly ushered him over to  his own helmet, practically shoving the helmet onto his head and buckling it on for him. Patroclus had to gently push him back to his side of the room before putting it on. The feeling of being pulled into a current came again, but the memories flew by quicker this time, all familiar now, although he could feel Achilles anxiously waiting to see their sparring match from Patroclus' view in particular, which made him very much want him to  _not_ see it. But, to his chagrin, it came all the same, his embarrassment growing as he felt Achilles' glee at how much fun Patroclus had with him, his face heating when Achilles noticed the way he looked at him shirtless. But again, Achilles let him push the memory away without complaint or comment. He liked that about Achilles, that no matter how excited he was about something he always respected his boundaries.

He watched all of Achilles' memories go by again, curious to give him a taste of his own medicine and see the memories from his point of view, but Achilles pushed it away and ended the memory montage. Patroclus decided to let it go, rolling his shoulders and clearing his mind, allowing the strange sensation of their minds blurring together to take over. Achilles began their exercises, today it was a workout routine consisting of push ups, sit ups, and squat thrusts. It was easier to do now with Achilles' mind taking over and finding it easy. He knew he would be even more sore the next day but he tried to ignore that and enjoy having a workout that didn't make him want to die the entire time. Maybe all this drifting would whip him into shape. 

By the end of the hour he was dripping with sweat and had gotten to a point where he couldn't tell which random, fleeting thought was his or Achilles'. One would sigh or swear or wipe their forehead and neither could tell which had the idea. He guessed it was the point and this was a good thing, but it was still unnerving to lose himself so completely in someone else's mind or move someone else's body. He could reach out and touch something on the other end of the room through Achilles' hand or look outside with Achilles' eyes by turning Achilles' head, and it was hard not to think of them as his own when they were like this. He didn't want to separate, he liked being like this. He liked being so connected with someone else, he didn't feel as whole without it. He didn't know how long they would be doing this, but he hoped it would be for a very long time. He had begun to mix up their memories, forgetting which were his and which were Achilles'. He had begun forgetting that Achilles' hadn't been in all of his own as well, forgetting that Achilles' hadn't been on that roof with him or working by his side in the sick bay for the last five years. 

By the time they had finished his face was back to aching from laughter and smiling. Achilles had to run off to meet with the other pilots about new strategies but he made Patroclus promise to come to the sparring match that afternoon, and maybe even let him help in the sick bay again. Patroclus was on a cloud through the rest of work, helping a young girl deal with an asthma attack and stitching up another's elbow and giving annual Tetanus shots. Chiron was going to the same meeting Achilles was so he was in charge of everything in the sick bay for the afternoon, which made him happy. He was the only one Chiron trusted with his sick bay and it gave him a little warm feeling inside. Even if it had been five years since he'd seen his father, he still craved acceptance from the father figures in his life. It felt a little pathetic to him but it still made him happy.

He was making his way down one of the back hallways when he noticed he had a fairly large shadow behind him. Or rather, two large shadows. He turned a corner and found another in front of him, blocking his path.

"What's with you and Pelides?" The biggest one in front of him leaned forward, not interested in beating around the bush. He recognized him as part of Achilles' usual meal group. Now that he looked, they were all part of the inner group. Obvious pilots-to-be, all jockeying to be Phoinix's replacement in the Aristos once Achilles was better. This one was one of the meanest looking he had seen. 

"I'm just helping him get better. I'm a medic, it's what I do. " He tried to move around him but the hulk moved with him, continuing to block his path.

"Seems like more than that. He sat with you this morning. He planning on making a hobby of that, you think?"

"I really don't think-"

"It was rhetorical; he's not."

Despite himself, Patroclus felt himself getting defensive. "Then you have nothing to worry about, and no reason to be messing with me."

"Oh, this isn't messing with you. This." He shoved Patroclus, making his friends laugh. "This is messing with you." When Patroclus tried to move he pushed him again, showing off for his friends. "You think cause Pelides let you win a fight you can take any of us, huh?" He tried to explain that he did not in fact think that but the other boy wasn't listening. He tried one last time to get away but they had begun closing in, and he realized that they weren't just going to stop at verbal intimidation to make him stay away from Achilles.

The leader lunged forward and before he knew it, he had dodged left, caught his wrist with one arm and jabbed his ribs hard with the other, doubling the guy over. It was something he had seen Achilles do before and the part of his brain where that bit of Achilles now lived must have kicked in. He would have loved to stay and think about what it meant that things like that could happen, if it were only stress induced or if he could turn it off and on, if Achilles now had medical knowledge he'd be able to bring up in an emergency, but the right hook to his ribs killed that dream along with all the oxygen was in his lungs. He might have some of Achilles' moves, but he was neither as strong nor as fast. He might have been able to take one, but not three trained pilots who were incredibly pissed off and embarrassed now.

And the real problem was, he  _really_ didn't want to fight them. He had seen things like this before and he could understand their point of view. He had seen lots of fights break out among the pilots over petty jealousies such as Achilles preferring one person over another; They were under so much stress constantly, the stress of death by Kaiju at any moment, the stress of not making it into the pilot program, that any small injury could ruin their chances at fame...

And that was why he couldn't fight them. He couldn't take a chance at hurting them, not like that boy on the roof. They may not be the nicest of guys but if they could help save lives he couldn't risk it. Which meant he was going to have to let these stress fueled Goliaths beat the shit out of him. Great.

\--

Achilles  _hated_ these meetings. He hated talking strategy and science and probabilities of survival. His job was to put on a mechanical suit and kill things, that was it. He hated pretending that strategy had anything to do with this, as if you could strategize when a 200 ton monster was barreling towards you, with nothing on its mind but to kill you and everyone in the city behind you. You acted on instinct, pure and simple. No one asked his opinion anyway, not when Agamemnon ran the meetings. He made it very clear that he didn't care how well Achilles fought, he was too young and inexperienced when he came into the program and he didn't approve. So, with zero eyes or minds on him, he let his own wander. He wondered what Patroclus was doing right then, if he was thinking of him too. He traced the whorls on the table, smiling to himself as he pictured those deep, chocolate brown eyes, the way they crinkled in the corners when he laughed, the way he always committed wholly to every smile and beamed like he was having the greatest time of his life. Like he truly liked Achilles for who he was, not what he was. Or the way the muscles of his back moved when he stretched after they drifted, the way it felt to drift with someone he was compatible with, with someone like him...

He groaned when someone began frantically pounding on the door of their meeting room, making his headache worse. Patroclus was right, they really couldn't make staying up so late a habit, no matter how much he enjoyed it. The person at the door came in, Achilles recognized him as one of the sixteen year olds that worked in the sick bay with Patroclus. He was skinny with sandy hair and he had been in charge of replacing old needles with new ones.

"There's a fight, a big one. Like three on one big, on one of the lower decks." He was fidgeting nervously and Achilles frowned. Fighting was inevitable but it was usually two pilots taking a few swings at one another for a minute and no one really got involved. But three on one and not on the main deck? That was odd, less of an act of passion during training and more of an ambush. 

Agamemnon sighed and stood. "Who is it? Anyone completely indispensable or can it wait?"

The boy fidgeted and Achilles pitied him. He remembered being young and under those scrutinizing eyes. He'd grown used to it and just found them annoying now, but he still remembered how uncomfortable it used to make him. "It's, um, the replacement head medic that's in it, and we kinda need him for when Chiron is away..."

Achilles and Chiron both jumped up at the same time, his heart hammering in his chest. Who would go after Patroclus? He was the sweetest, gentlest man in the world. "Where? Which deck?" The boy stuttered out that it was the same deck as the sick bay and he was off, ignoring Agamemnon's noises of annoyance as he left and Chiron and Peleus and half of the other pilots followed. He flew down the flights of stairs, hoping he could follow the sounds of a fight but hearing none, which only worried him more. There should be a struggle, shouting,  _something_. But there was nothing. He hated how long this was taking him. He didn't know what he'd do if something had happened...

Rounding a corner he saw them, three of the guys he knew fairly well from training and meals. And there was Patroclus, just standing there. If the dents in the pipes behind him were any indication it looked like he had tried to get away from what he could, but he was favoring his right side pretty obviously. He wanted Patroclus to fight back but he knew he wouldn't. It would be the boy on the roof all over again and his poor Patroclus would rather have his head beaten in than hurt anyone. He had to step in, before anything worse could happen.

\--

Patroclus saw this specific punch coming and he really wished he'd dodged it, but they'd hammered the same rib grouping pretty good and his movements weren't what he'd like them to be, so when the hit to the right side of his jaw sent his head into the wall piping, he was less than pleased. Although he had to admit, the momentary blackout was a nice reprieve from the aching in his side and what would very soon be an aching in his head.

When he came back from seeing stars, he heard a yelling and scuffle and then felt firm hands on his face and rapid, frantic breathing against his neck.  _"Patroclus, wake up!"_ The hands ran over his head, trying to feel for any severe damage.

He groaned and shook his head, lifting a hand to press against his jaw and groaning louder at the pain in his side. "I wanna go back to sleep, that was nice."

Achilles laughed a little shakily and let his hands drift back to Patroclus' face, his thumbs stroking over his cheek bones slightly. When he was able to force his eyes open, he saw Achilles' face barely an inch from his own, green eyes misty and anxious, his lips shaking slightly. Patroclus felt terrible and he didn't know why, it wasn't like he'd planned to get the shit kicked out of him today, but he hated the look of worry on Achilles' face.

Achilles turned and glared at the guys who had cornered him, his voice eerily calm. "You touch him again and I swear to god I'll kill you." The guys looked absolutely freaked and Patroclus wanted to tell Achilles to ease off, but part of him was admittedly happy that they weren't completely getting away with using him as a punching bag. Odysseus herded them away and Chiron kneeled down next to Patroclus to examine his head. Achilles shifted a little but kept his hands on him, one between his shoulders and the other kneading his right shoulder anxiously. Part of Patroclus thought he should find this weird, that they only knew each other for two days, but at the same time, they hadn't. He had heard how it was when Pilots found their drift partner, how some began dating that day or moved in with each other. Briseis and Deidameia became inseparable best friends after their first drift. In a way, you had now known them your whole life. And Achilles was certainly acting like someone had hurt his lifelong best friend, which made Patroclus a little happy. Maybe he really was the new favorite.

"Well losing consciousness is never good, so I'll have to check you for a concussion. Can you tell how bad the ribs are?" Chiron ran his hand over his side, feeling for any signs of a break or puncture.

Patroclus rolled his shoulder, grimacing. "Bruised, but I don't think broken. No breathing trouble." Achilles kept massaging at his shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles into the muscle. Patroclus could feel the rapid beating of his heart against his back and he wanted to comfort him. He knew how afraid he had been to see Achilles hurt, and that was before they had even begun drifting.

Letting Chiron support him they made their way back to the sick bay where many of the recruits were waiting anxiously to hear what had happened to their second in command. Achilles tried to refuse to leave Patroclus but he was able to convince him to go get the two of them something from the mess hall as there was no way Patroclus would be able to get up there today, as well as explain the situation to Briseis so she would understand why he wouldn't be making it to dinner. When he was gone, Chiron smiled slightly as he checked Patroclus' eyes and reflexes.

"So, I see the drifting is going well then?"

He looked away, unable to look Chiron in the eye, fumbling with his fingers. "Yeah, he seems to be making progress. I think with another two weeks or so of drifting he will be fit to pilot again." He pointedly ignored the incredulous look Chiron was giving him, refusing to admit that this was rapidly becoming much more to him than it should, that his emotions were becoming way too involved. The first rule of being a pilot medic was not to become too attached to any one pilot. Favoritism caused mistakes they couldn't afford, especially not with the future savior of humanity, if you could believe the rumor. 

Achilles came back in with food for the two of them, Chiron leaving them alone once he had concluded Patroclus was alright enough. Achilles sat with his arm pressed against Patroclus', refusing to go to training, insisting that it really wasn't a good idea for him to spar angry. They spent the day talking, Achilles often having to manhandle Patroclus so he wouldn't get up and keep working any time he thought the other recruits needed help, even resorting to putting him in a half nelson until he agreed not to help them carry boxes of gauze across the room. 

Briseis ran in to fuss over Patroclus and yell at him for getting himself hurt. She was relieved he hadn't broken anything but was mad she couldn't sign any cast so he let her sign his rib wrappings, drawing a caricature of Patroclus with "I make bad choices" in a speech bubble next to it, making Achilles giggle along with her until she left, kissing his cheek and promising to check in on him the next morning with coffee and more colorful markers.

By the time Chiron came back to check on his ribs, the Achilles and Patroclus had fallen asleep together on the skinny cot, Achilles' arm wrapped protectively around Patroclus' torso and his head nestled into the crook of his neck.

 


	6. Into Battle

Against Achilles' protestations, they continued to drift together, Patroclus able to convince him that it would be good for his mild concussion. For the next two months, they drifted every day. Achilles spent every meal with Patroclus from then on, always sitting close enough that their arms never stopped touching. Even after his ribs healed, Achilles went everywhere he went as long as he could help it. He continued to help in the sick bay cheering up the injured kids and reaching things the younger recruits couldn't. They quickly became inseparable. When Patroclus woke up with the flu, he went to tell Achilles that he had to cancel drifting, only to find him standing outside his door wrapped in a blanket and leaning weakly against the frame. Chiron exiled them both to Patroclus' room so they wouldn't be anywhere near the others. They took turns whining pathetically and tugging the blankets off each other. After that, Achilles began finding more and more excuses to come to his room, be it thunderstorms or windy nights that he knew made Patroclus anxious, or sleepless nights or just to be near each other and talk. It began to feel strange to be away from each other, like detaching a limb and leaving it behind. After their first month of being friends, most of Achilles things had found their way into Patroclus' room, where he managed to sleep most nights unless Chiron or one of the other pilots insisted otherwise.

After the initial two weeks was over and no new co-pilot had been found for Achilles, so it was approved for Patroclus to run fight simulations with him to keep him on his toes. At first he was terrified, seeing the simulated Kaiju running towards him bringing back too many bad memories, but with Achilles next to him and constant reassurances that they were safe on the ship, he learned to enjoy it. It was amazing to move like Achilles, to feel the exhilaration of moving with preternatural speed, to feel the way his mind worked while they were together, the way Achilles could analyze any situation and within a second know how to properly neutralize the threat. And, amazingly enough, Patroclus almost seemed to add positively to the experience. Chiron had taught him about the different anatomies of the known Kaijus and what their dangers were. Where Achilles knew how to kill in general, Patroclus knew which secreted damaging venoms and which had serrated skin that could damage their fake Jaeger even without having to hit it very hard. Achilles was able to take this into consideration and his simulation scores increased even more. 

Strangely, the trainers began asking him to join in occasional training sessions as well, teaching him basic fighting forms and honing his muscles. He wanted to draw the line at running laps but Achilles promised to run with him and make it fun. While it was still entirely awful, made worse by the fact that Achilles could run a four minute mile without seeming to break a sweat, he did make it more bearable. Then it was weight lifting, more sparring, and a work out routine for him to do "in his free time." He didn't mention that between drifting, training, and working in the sick bay his only free time was spent eating and sleeping, he figured he'd just let them assume he was going along with it and Achilles promised not to tell as long as Patroclus promised not to tell that Achilles' protein shakes were actually milkshakes with chocolate protein powder mixed in.

Every few days, Achilles would disappear after dinner to meet his mother and wouldn't get back until nearly morning. Patroclus didn't know where he went or what they talked about, just that Achilles always slept in his room those nights, quietly coming in in the middle of the night, hair wet from the spray of the ocean. He would climb in beside Patroclus and press close to him, shivering from the cold air and the secret conversations. Achilles never volunteered any information about it and Patroclus never asked, just pretended to be asleep when he came in each time. 

Everything was going well. He had his wonderful medic job, he had Briseis and Deidameia and Achilles and Chiron. He was enjoying drifting and the simulators and even if he hated the work outs themselves, he had fun doing them with Achilles. Their nights were spent crammed onto his bed, occasionally staying up all night talking about anything and everything, other nights simply sitting in comfortable silence, Patroclus reading and stroking Achilles hair while he made up songs only Patroclus would hear. 

It was all so simple until that night. The night that started like any other, with Achilles' head in his lap, his fingers in Achilles' hair as he read. He loved how soft his hair was, the way the golden strands felt between his fingers. His eyes were drifting closed just as the alarm went off, jerking them both upright. Kaiju in the vicinity, everyone was needed at their stations immediately. Before he knew it, Achilles was gone to get suited and he was in the sick bay rousing all the sleepy recruits to their positions. He was halfway to his own position when an engineer ran in. 

"Patroclus, Agamemnon wants you to follow me, right now." He frowned. What could he possibly need right now that couldn't wait? But he couldn't very well say no, so he made sure everything was taken care of and followed the engineer warily. He followed him up three flights of stairs, past the main deck and up to the top decks. He hadn't been up there since he was fourteen and Chiron had shown him around the control room on a slow day. The walls were different here. He was used to the rust brown of the old lower decks. No one important ever went down there so no money ever went to making it look nice. But up here, the walls were chrome and shining like they had been newly polished that day. He could even safely put his hands on the railing without worrying about getting Tetanus. He was so distracted with the new surroundings that when the engineer opened a door for him, he walked in without asking questions. The slamming of the door behind him snapped him out of it and he realized where he was, his heart speeding to a thousand miles an hour.

He was inside a Jaeger. The head, to be exact. Achilles was adjusting his suit, the same he had worn the day he and Phoinix had their first accident. If Patroclus squinted, he could see the drops of blood on the shoulders. Achilles turned around, smiling in surprise at him. 

"Hey. What are you doing here?" Patroclus was going to say that he hoped he didn't know, that there must be a mistake, but two more engineers came in and began manhandling him into a matching suit and the smile fell off Achilles' face. "No. No, no no no he is not pulling this shit!" He ran to the intercom, jamming the button as the leg pieces were drilled together onto Patroclus' immobile form. "Agamemnon, this idea was killed by the other pilots. You can't do this!"

Patroclus could make out the scratchy, angry tone of Agamemnon from the other end, still too stunned to do anything but allow himself to be put into the battle armor.

"I am aware that my program was vetoed. However, you and your companion made perfect conditions for test subjects and as there are no viable pilots on board, this is our only option. This is simply a test to see if the program needs reconsideration. Now you can rage, and cry, and throw all the tantrums you want Pelides, but the fact of the matter remains that this is a time sensitive issue. The longer you fight the better the chance that innocent people will die. I'm sure your friend knows all about that."

The transmission cut out and Achilles hit it, yelling. "Fuck!" He turned to Patroclus. "I had nothing to do with this, I swear to god Patroclus." Patroclus just nodded, swallowing. He groaned when the engineers placed the metal spinal column into the suit, feeling it bite into his skin.

"What's going on, Achilles?" He tried to keep his voice level, not to let the panic seep into his voice the way it was seeping through his blood, into his bones and freezing over his heart.

Achilles ran a hand through his hair, taking a shaky breath. "Agamemnon had this idea that to save money, they should only train the absolute best and brightest. Then, when they were ready, they'd pair 'em with someone else who hadn't been trained besides basic strength training. His idea was that drifting would do all the training for them and save them the time. Everyone voted it down, saying it was too risky."

Patroclus nodded through the explanation numbly. "That's why they wanted me in your training sessions. God, I'm such an idiot..." The engineers pushed him over to the right hemisphere of the Jaeger and he let them. They were wasting time, the more they stood here the closer it was getting to the mainland. Achilles grabbed his arm as they tried to strap him in.

"You don't have to do this, I can do something about this, just let me-"

Patroclus shook his head. "We don't have time Achilles, people are going to die if we don't go now." Achilles swallowed hard and Patroclus could see the hurt in his face. He didn't like yelling at Achilles, but he wasn't going to let anyone else end up like his mother. He just hoped he didn't ruin anything, get anyone killed. Achilles let them strap him in and the engineers left. After a moment, the room they were in lurched and surged down, like a free falling elevator for what felt like a full minute before hitting hard onto what he knew had to be the shoulders of the Aristos. He was so afraid he was calm, everything inside him just lost in white noise as Achilles yelled at the control room for letting this happen to no avail. He was relieved when they intiated the drift, letting himself be dragged into Achilles. He could feel his anger, a blinding rage, but even more his fear. Achilles was just as afraid as he was.

He heard the industrial holds release and felt another drop as the Jaeger fell, plummeting down story after story before landing in the ocean. His knees bent automatically to absorb the impact, a painful jolt running up his spine. Then, with one final look of worry from Achilles, they began moving forward. If he had to describe it, he'd say it was like using an elliptical on the highest resistance setting. Their Jaeger was up to its knees in the water, and soon they were running through it, his thighs already burning from the effort. He couldn't do this, he couldn't. He wasn't strong enough, in any way. He would get them both killed, he would get that entire city killed. More kids would hear their parents die, and that was if they didn't die themselves.

Then, after five minutes of running, he saw it, moving through the water like an alligator, it's spiked back and tail the only thing visible. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. everything was numb. It was headed for the not-so-far-off lights of the coastal city. He could hear the pounding footsteps in his head, his mothers screams, that terrible, wet breathing...

 _Patroclus, I need your help. I can't do this alone._ Achilles thoughts were soft but fierce. He may be The Achilles, but he had been out of commission for two months, his last fight nearly getting him and his partner killed.  _Please, I need you on this._

Taking a deep breath, he assessed what he could of the Kaiju.  _No  venom, no acid, no serrated skin. Take out the tail. It's the strongest muscle and it's main way of counterbalancing its oversized head. We take out the tail, it should be easy from there._ Achilles nodded, relieved, and they began running froward again, faster than Patroclus thought a Jaeger could run. Raising their left arms, they shot one of their four arm-mounted rockets, hitting the monster on its side. It reared up, as tall as the Jaeger, sized them up a moment with its terrible glowing blue eyes, then roared, the sound the worst thing he had ever heard. It felt like knives dragging over his eardrums. It shook the Jaeger but they stood their ground. One arm thrusting out they caught it by the throat, their left arm lengthening, the fingers moving to the side as a sword that seemed to be the size of a carrier ship emerged. They drove the monster back, Patroclus jerking the monster hard to the right long enough for Achilles to drive the sword into the tail, the monster roaring again in pain, swiping at the arm around its neck, metal scraps flying off. Patroclus let go and ducked to the side, under the beasts arm. Achilles jerked the sword out and moved with him, stabbing the monster under the arm, dragging it along. 

Patroclus swore.  _Nevermind that, we need to get the tai-_ He gasped, the spiked tail swinging up and slamming into their stomach, knocking them hard backwards. They both groaned in pain, struggling to get up. The monster was running at them and they were helpless. They were going to die. It was all over.

Achilles jerked the sword up and shoved it in front of them, driving it through the monsters shoulder and keeping it just far enough away, caught. The monster raged, driving them backwards, the Jaeger scraping along the ocean bottom, but still unable to reach them. Patroclus swore. They were getting too close to the land, they couldn't afford to let it see the people.

 _Patroclus, the canon, do it now!_ He lifted his sore arm, taking a minute to charge it before firing at the tail. He didn't have the time to charge it enough to penetrate the thick underbelly, but it was able to almost completely sever the tail. Reaching forward, he grabbed onto it hard and pulled, wincing at the spray of blue blood as it came off. Achilles jerked out the sword, the monster tottering unstable, stepping backwards. Pushing themselves up, they watched the monster, the sword held firmly in front of them. The monster took a lurching step forward, struggling to stay upright without its counterbalance. 

Breathing heavy, they swayed back and forth warily, watching it. They stopped thinking in words and stuck to images. Patroclus' hand grabbing its head and jerking it to the side and off balance, Achilles' sword driving into the exposed neck. They ran forward, Patroclus' arm out in front, grabbing for its head. It moved to avoid it slightly but he was able to grab its jaw and still jerk its head, yelling when the monster bit down on the hand, clawing at the arm savagely but he kept his hold, gritting his teeth. He knew pain could transfer through the Jaeger but he didn't know it felt so  _real_ , as if it was his own arm being raked by claws.

He jerked his arm out and grabbed the top of its head hard, squeezing as hard as he could and keeping it in place as best he could.  _Now!_

Achilles drove the sword forward into the neck, sawing feverishly, covering them both in the monsters luminescent blood as the monster roared and clawed until it dropped dead at their feet. Achilles jerked the sword out, retracting it back into the arm, both breathing hard. Patroclus could hear a noise behind them, a dull roaring sound, and he jerked around, waiting to see another Kaiju ready to strike, only to see that they were less than a mile off a shore crowded with cheering people who had seen the entire thing. They turned to face them fully and raised the Jaeger arm in acknowledgment, the crowd growing louder. Achilles laughed breathlessly and reached up to the intercom, telling the control room that the threat had been neutralized, another faint cheer coming from the other end. The sounds grew fainter as the ringing in Patroclus' ears grew, blocking everything else.

He was in a Jaeger. He just fought and killed a Kaiju. He just fought and killed a Kaiju. He just fought a Kaiju.

He felt the drift break and he was left alone in his own thoughts, Achilles disengaging and dropping to his feet, moving in front of Patroclus and undoing him as well. He immediately fell to his knees, his legs like rubber underneath him. Achilles put his hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you ok?" His heart sank when he saw Patroclus' head fall forward and his shoulders shaking silently, waiting for the sob to break out, only to hear him draw in a deep breath and let out a loud, uncontrolled laugh, doubling over on himself. Patroclus could hardly breathe he was laughing so hard, his sides hurting from the power of it.

"Do I need to slap you?" Achilles tried to sound worried, but he could feel a laugh bubbling inside of himself too.

"That... Was... The most insane thing... I have ever done..." Patroclus had to cover his mouth to smother his laughter. God, he must be in shock to be laughing at a time like this but he couldn't help it. He was in a Jaeger! Somehow, against every odd in the world, he had not been immediately killed by the monster and they had actually won the fight, and now he and Achilles were casually sitting across from each other like they were having a chat in his room. The whole thing was insanely funny for no reasonable reason at all, and soon Achilles was laughing along with him, pulling him into a hug.

"We're alive!" This made them laugh harder, their foreheads pressed together. When their laughter finally died down, they were breathing hard and looking at each others,faces inches apart. Patroclus stayed still as Achilles moved forward, pressing their mouths together softly. It wasn't hard or insistent, it did not demand that Patroclus kiss back. After a moment Achilles moved back a little.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have-" Patroclus moved forward, kissing him and quieting him, Achilles now the one who was stunned a moment before kissing back, his fingers going to Patroclus' hair. They held each other tightly for what felt like hours and seconds all in one, Patroclus' good arm around Achilles' shoulders. Finally they moved apart, Patroclus' face overwarm. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was feeling the exhaustion getting to him, as well as the overwhelming soreness throbbing in his limbs. 

"We should go out there. They probably are wondering what the hell is happening in here."

Patroclus chuckled. "They probably assumed I fainted or something." Achilles helped him up, his legs still rebelling against him, and helped him up the ladder and out of the hatch at the top. Dragging himself up and out, he heard the cheering intensify. Achilles took hold of his hand and raised their arms, smiling at everyone and waving. Patroclus did his best to smile and wave but it was hard when all he wanted to do was fall asleep. Achilles leaned down to his ear

"Just wave until the helicopter gets here, makes it less awkward than just standing here." So, they continued waving for another two minutes until a helicopter hovered over them, recruits pulling them in. Chiron was there and grabbed Patroclus roughly, pulling him into a hard hug.

"You ever run off to fight a fucking Kaiju without telling me again, the Kaiju will be the least of your problems." His words were angry enough but he squeezed Patroclus tighter before letting him go, patting his shoulder gruffly. "Now let me look at you and check the damages." He put his sore arm in a sling to let it heal properly and checked his head even though Patroclus swore nothing had happened to it. He got a sharp slap to the side of the head before Chiron let him sit back and rest. Achilles sat beside him, draping his arm over his shoulders and letting Patroclus' head fall to his own, sleep finally taking over.

\--

Briseis was not happy to find him on yet another cot in the sick bay. "You never thought to tell me you're a secret pilot now?!"

He sighed, his head lolling to the side sleepily. "I didn't know until the suit was half on me. No one tells me anything around here."

Achilles was sitting in the bed next to him, his legs crossed. "Me either. Agamemnon is gonna have a field day with this, too. He's probably going to bring you in front of all the commanders and pilots, make a big to do about how his plan worked, he's going to want to rework the whole program."

Patroclus groaned. "Can't I just go back to being a normal medic?" Sure things had gone well, but it wasn't like he wanted to abandon his post to being a pilot. He loved being a medic. He would do whatever they needed of him but he wouldn't be happy about it. 

Briseis smiled and leaned forward, her eyes glittering with excitement. "So. How was it? Piloting an actual Jaeger, fighting an actual Kaiju?"

Patroclus laughed. "Terrible! I've never been so scared in my life. I swear if I could move my arm I'd strangle Agamemnon for this." He smiled to himself, looking down. "Honestly, it was actually almost ok. Terrifying, but it was cool feeling like that. Feeling so powerful, like I could do anything. If I could have that without the fight to the death bit, I'm sure I'd love it." She smiled and patted his good arm, squeezing it affectionately. They chatted more for a minute but Patroclus was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. His few minute nap hadn't helped much. She said goodnight and waved happily before leaving, promising she'd see him the next morning and giving him Deja Vu. He didn't like being on the receiving end of the sick bay. Achilles helped him back into what was now considered their room, despite Patroclus' insistence that his legs were working just fine now, and sat back with him against the pillows. Patroclus could feel the rapid beating of Achilles heart as he took a deep breath.

"This is just the beginning of this, I know it. They're going to just want more from us now. It'll never end."

Patroclus nodded, holding his hand tightly. "We'll be ok. What's the worst that could happen?"


	7. False Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, folks.

Achilles woke up, yawning and looking to the side table clock. 3:30 in the morning. He groaned and let his head fall back. He hadn't been sleeping well since their fight against the Kaiju. After the initial adrenaline had worn off, the laughter and excitement over how well they had worked together subsided, the guilt hit him full force. The day they met officially he had forced Patroclus to face his greatest fear, and now again because of him Patroclus had faced his new greatest fear. He had done what he could to try and get him out of the Jaeger once he was in, but he should have done more before then. It was his fault, all of it. He brought Patroclus into this world, never said a word about the trainers showing interest in including him in the workouts, never thought anything amiss about him being trained alongside him. How had he missed it all? Why had he not thought? He was the one who knew about Agamemnon's old plan, he knew how much the plan had meant to him, how he would do anything to get the things he wanted, even going to such lengths as to take advantage of a gentle hearted medic that wanted nothing more than to help people. He didn't want to fight or kill or cause pain, even to a monster. They had gone in front of the review board, they had sat there quietly as he bragged about his success, as if he had done anything other than take advantage of the situation. As if it was by his hand that Patroclus had excelled, as if he knew anything at all about his Patroclus.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking over to his new copilot. Patroclus was sound asleep, his hair falling dark and messy around his face. Reaching out a cautious hand, he swept the hair carefully away from Patroclus' face, finger tips lingering on his cheek, tracing over his cheekbones. He smiled softly to himself. That hair never wanted to set straight. He could brush it and brush it and it always wanted to stick up, especially right there, behind his ear. He sighed. This was wrong, he should  stop this. He should leave Patroclus alone and not bring any more trouble into his little world. He had a wonderful life on his own. He took care of hurt people, he helped them get better. He could make anyone, young or old, feel happy in the face of fear. He could make kids with broken wrists laugh, he would soothe the new medics who were still heartbroken over losing the chance at becoming pilots. He once spent an hour slowly carving an arrow out of a recruits shoulder after an archery accident rather than risk further damage by pulling it out like he was supposed to. He was soft and gentle and not made for any of this. But Achilles loved him, and he was selfish; He didn't want to let him go, ever. He couldn't. He was so empty and Patroclus was so whole, whole enough that Achilles could pretend he was as well when they were together. If he stopped the drifting, stopped the training, then they would hardly see each other again. He would be left alone all over again and he couldn't do that anymore. He hated himself terribly for it but not enough to stop. Patroclus made him feel things. He felt like, if he wanted, he could live outside this world of Jaegers and death for the first time in his life. He could be the savior they wanted him to be, end the war, and live again after all this. He could build a life over again, as long as he had Patroclus. He wanted things now. He didn't just live for the next fight, the next training session, the next chance he had to prove himself. He wanted a life beyond the confines of this ship.

Patroclus made a noise in his sleep and rolled towards him, pressing his face to his hair, making Achilles smile to himself. They were about the same size but Patroclus always seemed so much bigger, so much more than anyone else. Achilles had the fame and the potential but Patroclus was the one with true substance. 

He pressed his lips to his forehead, keeping them there for a minute. He loved Patroclus. It was terrifying, but he did. And he just wanted everything to be ok, he would do anything to make it be ok. Because he needed this. He couldn't live without this, not anymore. 

\--

Another two months went by and it was insisted that Patroclus continue to be Achilles' co pilot to further the experiment. The other pilots had become excited at the discovery, as well as the other recruits. This meant there was a chance that they could still be pilots yet. If they proved themselves worthy and got close to the pilot recruits, they could still make their families proud and get the fame they always wanted. Patroclus didn't like that everyone thought he became a pilot by cozying up to Achilles, but it didn't really matter. The other recruits were happy and they had hope, and if he kept playing along with the program and proved it could work, the kids could have the chance they wanted. And it really was good for the program if they could save money on training, which meant more money to make more Jaegers for the more pilots they would have, which meant more dead Kaiju. So really, how could he say no?

He killed five Kaijus in the time. They were given more drops than anyone else in an attempt to watch the progress as fast as possible. He was constantly exhausted, sleeping whenever he could to be awake enough for their fights. His arm never fully stopped hurting but he was at least able to use it, and it wasn't much different from how sore the rest of him was at all times. He also had to keep helping in the sick bay as much as possible, as he never thought to train a replacement before now. A recruit about his age named Automedon seemed to be the best bet. He was quiet and smart and took direction well. 

God he was so tired. And he hated the fighting. He thought it would get easier each time but it never did. Each time it was terrifying, each time it hurt, each time he spent the entire fight terrified that they were moments away from a horrible death. It never happened, but he still dreamt about every moment those teeth got too close to them, every time the claws nearly dug deep enough to kill their power generator. He wanted to wake up every time it happened but he couldn't, he was paralyzed in his dreams. Luckily each morning he did finally wake up Achilles was there, face buried against him. It made those dreams slowly fade away into the background as the soft breaths of his companion filled his mind with a blissful nothingness for a few moments before they would start their day. 

Some nights when they'd had enough rest between drops, he and Achilles would sneak out and swim off the back of the ship. The water was usually cold but they didn't mind. After a long day of working in the sun or down in the stifling heat of the belly of the ship it always felt so good. Achilles moved like a fish through the water, swimming much farther away than Patroclus ever could, but he always came back. He knew Patroclus was ok by the ship but not in truly open water. Open water was where the Kaiju came from and since their second battle, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something just under his feet. During that fight, they had lost the Kaiju signature. It just disappeared. Achilles had been halfway through asking the control room to widen the search radius when it had exploded up from underneath them, knocking them nearly into the coastline. It had somehow cloaked its signature and was able to hide long enough to sneak up on them, nearly disabling them in the process. It was only through sheer nervous energy that Patroclus had kept the plasma canon at the ready and was able to kill it as it ran towards them. Patroclus would have nightmares that a Kaiju was under the Phthia, quietly waiting for them. Achilles never went too far and Patroclus could forget his fears when they were together. Just for a little while.

Achilles still went to see his mother every week or so. He came back more anxious than usual each time. He said his mother kept warning him that something bad was going to happen, that this was the way of things. That there was always the calm before the storm and he should be prepared for it. It worried him, that he didn't know what this storm was that he had to be so afraid of. He was as much a pilot as his mother had been and yet she knew things he didn't.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Agamemnon made the announcement that they didn't need him anymore. They would be going forth with his idea, they had the proof they needed. If drifting with Achilles could turn a medic with no training into a competent pilot than they could take kids with training who only barely failed out into the army they needed to finally defeat the Kaiju. Not long after, the remaining pilot recruits graduated into full pilots. Briseis and Deidamia became full pilots just as Patroclus stopped being one, leaving him very happy on both accounts. Despite Agamemnon's insistences, Achilles pitched to the other pilots that he should still be put with a trained pilot. They needed the best of the best together. The others could be the foot soldiers but he needed to be the front runner. His first choice was Briseis, figuring that after months of knowing her they would work well. Despite the fact that she warned him she didn't always think in English while fighting he said he didn't mind. Language wasn't the most important part of the fight. 

The morning the pairings were posted, Patroclus was practically dragged down to see it. Every recruit on the ship of piloting age was there waiting to see if they would be put in a Jaeger. Many were walking away disappointed, some were jumping up and down with delight. Achilles pushed forward to see who he got then quickly backing away, his face livid.

Briseis frowned. "Not me?"

Achilles shook his head, clenching his fists. "Nope. Automedon. You're with some engineer kid. I can't believe this shit..." He stormed off to Agamemnon's office, Patroclus and Briseis following nervously. Briseis tried to say that she didn't care about this that much but Patroclus knew that wasn't what this was about. It was about them completely undermining Achilles as a pilot, making him look like an idiot in front of everyone who had heard him declare he would only go with another pilot. His entire life he was told he was only as good as his honor, and now they were stripping it from him and treating him like he was anyone else. It would mean everything he went through had been for nothing, that he had given up his entire life for nothing.

He burst into the office, Agamemnon sitting with many of the older pilots. He seemed annoyed but unsurprised by the intrusion and stood to greet them, nodding his head at them.

"Pelides, I thought you might be stopping by."

"What the hell? We had a deal, everyone here heard we had a deal. You used me for your experiment and now I get the pilot I want. Not some medic lackey who barely trained a month." Patroclus felt a little hurt by that even though he knew it wasn't about him, but he tried to hide it. This was about Achilles losing the one thing his entire life had been built on. He needed to be the supportive boyfriend on this one.

Agamemnon sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. "It is high time you learn that this ship does not sail on your winds. We are a team, everyone equal. You may have talent but you are no greater than anyone else. We made mistakes in the past, hoarding our best pilots together and lowering our numbers. We need to strengthen our ranks and to do that, we need doubles of our best. You were able to turn a medic into a pilot with a five Kaiju kill streak, I'm sure you can do it again with another. This is a good thing. You will be among the greatest ranks we've ever had."

Patroclus winced. That was not what Achilles wanted to hear. He needed to be the best or nothing, he couldn't fall into anonymity, one of thirty names no one will remember. His whole life he had been promised one thing and in a moment it was gone.

Achilles squared his shoulders, leveling his eyes at them all. "Then I'm not piloting."

Peleus stood, staring at him incredulously. "What was that?"

Achilles looked to him coolly. "You heard me. I can't get the kid ready in time. Patroclus was different circumstances. I'm not dropping until I get a real co pilot." And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked off, Patroclus and Briseis waving awkwardly to the others before following. Patroclus tried to put a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off, running his hands through his hair. Patroclus turned to Briseis, mouthing that he would handle this. She nodded in relief and hurried off to see her copilot. Patroclus gently guided Achilles back to their room, closing the door.

"We can deal with this."

Achilles shook his head. "No, I refuse. They can't do this to me. They took my life,  _my entire life,_ for this. I was happy to give it up because of this one thing but they would take it from me. They would take everything from me over nothing! What do they care about two pilots? They don't, what they care about is putting me in my place. They're angry that I've eclipsed all of them in fame, they want to put me back in my place." Patroclus watched the meltdown nervously. He had never seen Achilles like this. Angry yes, terrified yes, angry and terrified together, yes. But he always kept it inside, he always pushed through and worked with the situation, but not now. Now his heels were dug in and he wasn't moving. He had drawn his line in the sand and he would not cross it. Patroclus felt helpless. 

That night, Achilles slept as usual, his head rested over Patroclus' heart, his arm wound tightly around his waist. Patroclus couldn't sleep, just stared up at the ceiling silently, tracing patterns on the smooth skin of Achilles' back. He hated this. Achilles was hurt, Automedon was probably hurt, Briseis was put in a terrible position, nothing was right. This wasn't how it was all supposed to end up. Things were falling apart so fast, the fabric of their lives unraveling in front of his eyes. Before going to sleep, Achilles had been adamant that they would see at the next drop that they needed him and they would come crawling back, giving him a proper co pilot and agreeing he was right. Patroclus wasn't so sure. Numbers were pretty powerful, they may outweigh any advantage he could bring. That was Patroclus' biggest fear, that nothing would happen that would bring Achilles back into action. He didn't know what would happen then. If Achilles thought he would lose honor by fighting as one of many, he would lose even more if he didn't fight at all. Or worse, he would be hated. That was the last thing Patroclus wanted. 

Achilles made a noise in his sleep, his arm tightening around Patroclus, pressing closer. Patroclus wrapped both arms around him, rubbing the back of his neck. He would do whatever he had to to help Achilles. He had told himself that their first day together and he was going to stick to that. Achilles was worth ten times what he ever could be. He could save a few pilots but Achilles could save millions as a pilot. And, if he was going to be realistic with himself and admit his only reason wasn't just practical. He loved Achilles. He had tried so hard not to love him, but he couldn't stop it. Achilles had him, and he would do what he needed to if it meant helping him.

\--

Drop after drop came and went. Kaijus were killed and cities saved, but pilots were getting hurt. Agamemnon was right in that the untrained pilots could learn to fight from drifting, but even the trained pilots didn't know how to react in real life fighting situations. They panicked, barely winning their battles. They had hoped the older pilots would be better but they were all angry at being split up from their original copilots and were not in the mood to be teachers. They all secretly agreed with Achilles that the system was not working, but they had seen what happened when Achilles had stood up against Agamemnon. No one wanted to be the squeaky wheel when they knew they wouldn't be getting the oil. This only served to make Achilles angrier. He couldn't make the other pilots rally with him, they were all cowards to him. 

Patroclus didn't know what to do. Kids were coming in with injured limbs and burns and psychological trauma. He knew the pain that came with fighting in a damaged Jaeger, his own arm still hurt anytime he used it too much. Sadly there wasn't much he could do for them besides some physical therapy exercises. To fit them all in, he had to do group physical therapy sessions just to make sure everyone was getting what they needed. Things were getting worse.

And to top it all off, the Kaiju were getting bigger. Their scientists were saying that they would be coming faster and in bigger numbers, and that there would be no way of stopping it unless they closed the rift, possibly with a bomb. They would need someone good to lead that expedition though, they would need the best. And the best refused to go unless he was given Briseis as a partner, or someone comparable. He wouldn't sit in on strategy meetings, he wouldn't give any input, not until things were made right by him.

Patroclus couldn't even fix things. Every night he and Achilles would lie together, Achilles whispering that the time was getting closer. And every night Patroclus tried to convince him to help, at least a little. But he would shake his head and say he couldn't give up now, not when they were so close, not when he was sure Agamemnon would give in any day now. 

It all came to a head one day when there was another routine drop, a Kaiju spotted a few miles away. Only one pair was in good enough shape to go in but everyone felt confident that one could handle it. 

Patroclus and Achilles were in the control room at the time. A few pilot/engineers needed to pull extra shifts to help out so he had to give them their therapy there. He was giving electro therapy to one girls rotator cuff and Achilles was helping another with stretches when the front screen began beeping wildly. The head engineer stood up abruptly. 

"We've got a second Kaiju in the vicinity, heading towards the first." The room went deadly silent.

Patroclus swallowed. "How is the team doing?"

The engineer tapped furiously on the keyboard. "Not well, left arm is damaged, they're out of rockets, and the Kaiju is barely hurt."

Patroclus looked to Achilles, who shook his head. "No, I can't. I can't kill the progress I made on this Patroclus, you know I can't."

"Well we can't just let them die!" He stepped forward, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please, I know these people. I love these people. And I know you do too. This is about something bigger, Achilles. If not for them, for me."

Achilles swallowed stiffly, his voice hoarse. "I can't. Patroclus I would do anything else for you, anything at all. But please, do not ask me for this. It's all I have."

Patroclus wanted to scream  _What about me?! You have me! You have what we have, what we've built these months. What about all those things you said, that all you wanted was to have a life after this, with me? Is that nothing compared to your reputation?_ But he didn't. He couldn't. He couldn't hurt Achilles just because he was upset. He had lived in that head for months, he knew that to Achilles it really was all that he had, all that he was.

So, taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Then I'll go in the Aristos, with Automedon."

Achilles frowned. "No, someone else can go help them."

Patroclus opened his mouth but the other pilots were shaking their heads, one speaking up. "They're all too hurt. They would die and we'd be out four pilots."

Achilles looked back to Patroclus and he hated that look on his face, so afraid, so troubled. But he couldn't give in, not this time. He couldn't say he would do anything for Achilles. He would do all that he could, but he'd taken an oath to protect the people on this ship first. It was his job to keep pilots from dying, and he was going to do his job.

"Please, Achilles. I need to do this. The Aristos has the best long-distance artillery we have and the most powerful canon. I won't even have to get close, I can load it up with rockets and then finish it off with the canon from a mile away. I won't be anywhere near danger if I can help it, trust me. You know how much I hate getting close." After a moment of agonized looks from Achilles, he nodded. Patroclus kissed his cheek and looked to two engineers who nodded, one getting the Aristos in position for boarding while another ran to get Automedon. Once the Aristos had gotten into position the engineer led him down to get into the suit, Achilles following.

"Neck and stomach are the best places to hit with rockets; It's sharp enough to pierce the protective skin so the explosion does more damage. After that, the canon will be able to kill it pretty easily. If it tries to engage, you get out of there. Stay in shallow water to avoid sneak attacks and if you have to, lead it to the main land. There are military helicopters on stand by that can help as long as you're within a mile of the shore."

Patroclus put his helmet on, Automedon almost done too. Achilles pulled him in close, kissing him, threading his fingers through Patroclus' hair.

"Come back to me. That's rule number one. You do whatever you need to do to make sure we get to do this again tonight." He kissed him again softly, stroking his cheek before stepping away. Patroclus swallowed, looking at him. God, this wasn't fair. He hated doing this, he hated all of this. They were going to have a talk tonight. A long one. There needed to be compromises, decisions made. Things needed to be said. But for now, there were pilots and a city full of people that needed him. So Achilles walked out the door and Patroclus turned on his helmet, initiating the drift.

Achilles was right, there was a difference between drifting with someone you were compatible with and someone you weren't. The memories didn't flow like with Achilles, he felt like he had to force it with Automedon. There was nothing wrong with the boy, but they certainly weren't drift compatible. The connection wasn't nearly as strong either, he could barely feel him there. Once the connection had been established enough, he felt like he had to concentrate on keeping it. The head began dropping onto the shoulders and he took a deep breath. He wasn't going to have Achilles to rely on, he was the Achilles now. He was the one with the experience and the training and he had to do what he could to keep the connection so he could help Automedon and get him back safely.

Finally, they began moving, slogging through the ocean. They had a fifteen minute run that left them both half way to exhaustion by the time they came upon the endangered Jaeger. The other pilots were obviously struggling. The left arm was completely gone now and the Kaiju looked like it barely had a scratch. Though to be fair, it was huge. It was lizard-like with a low center of gravity that was making it very hard for them to get to it, especially with one arm. Patroclus and Automedon lifted the Aristos' left arm, firing a rocket. The Kaiju moved at the noise and instead of the stomach it hit the shoulder, at the very least breaking the shoulder and disabling the leg. A scratchy voice came over the radio, the other pilots thanking them for coming. Patroclus smiled as the other pilots were able to grab the Kaiju by its neck and throw it.

Patroclus took a step forward to follow when he remembered the reason they were here. The second Kaiju. He caught a quick movement out of the corner of his eye but it was too late. By the time he truly noticed it, the monster had thrown itself out of the ocean, slamming its prominent horn against the head of the Jaeger, knocking them into the water. He felt a terrible, searing pain rake through his skull, forcing out a scream from him. He didn't know what had happened until he looked to Automedon, who was now hanging limply, completely unconscious from the blow. Leaving Patroclus to pilot alone.

He moved to stand but it was so much harder now, everything taking twice the effort, his head already pounding. Slowly he made it upright, swaying slightly. He tried to call the control room but there was no response. Radio was out, perfect. He looked to the other Jaeger for help but they were busy with their own Kaiju.

He looked back at his, groaning internally. He hated this kind. Chiron referred to them as the Shark Kaiju. Not because of the shark fin shaped horn, although that was enough to make it look like the former primary terrors of the ocean. This was the kind with the serrated skin. It could shave off Jaeger armor just by grazing it so he couldn't imagine what the full on ram had done to them. That would take forever for the engineers to fix.

His nose began bleeding. That couldn't be good. That was one of the first signs of neurological damage. He had to finish this. He couldn't finish this. Not on his own. But he didn't have a choice.

He began edging towards the shore, the Kaiju mirroring his movements warily. He couldn't initiate any weapons without it charging, they took too long and wouldn't be ready in time. He could try and run but it would overtake him. But he couldn't let it kill those pilots or the city. He was the last line of defense. Which was not good, for any of them.

God, he really had wanted to see Achilles again. 

He crouched, lowering his center of gravity. Street fighting, dirty wrestling, that's what he could do, right? Then that was what he'd do. The Kaiju growled and charged and he did the same, hitting low and lifting. It was amazing how strong the Jaeger was. He looped his arms around the legs and gave it the best double-leg take down he could, slamming it into the ground and jumping back. While it was dazed he was able to get off a rocket into it, injuring the junction between shoulder and neck. He tried to charge the plasma canon but it swung at him, digging its claws into the head of the Jaeger. He screamed, fire ripping through his right side. The serrated skin had gone through his armor like it was tissue paper. He could feel the blood running down his body, pooling around his feet within moments. 

His injured arm was basically useless now. It hung by his side limply, pins and needles running through it. He couldn't tell if it was touching anything, like the nerves were dead. That wasn't good.

Balling up his good fist he slowly charged the canon, eyeing its weak point. If he hit where the rocket had gone with enough power, it would take no time to bleed out. He took a quick glance at the other Jaeger, or where it had been, and saw their Kaiju was dead, but he couldn't see them. So they couldn't see him or that he was in trouble. 

He heard the terrible piercing roar and looked back to his Kaiju, its gaping mouth open, teeth glistening in the moonlight. It charged again and he lifted his arm, waiting. He wouldn't get another chance, he couldn't come back from another hit. Once it was less than three strides away, he fired, blowing it backwards. He waited and waited, watching the twitching body. Then it stilled and stayed still. Relief flooded his body and he wanted to drop, but he remembered Automedon and the gaping hole beside him. If he collapsed it would fill with water and drown them both. So, mainland it was.

He turned towards it, letting out a shaky breath. Everything either hurt or couldn't be felt. His image was beginning to blur around the edges, black spots swimming. He felt like he was going to be sick. He was soaked in blood. He really had wanted to see Achilles again.

Closing his eyes, he moved his left foot forward, letting the drift pull at him, the images swimming before his closed eyes. Right foot, Achilles sparring with him on the main deck, the sunlight making him glow like a god among mortals. Left foot, Achilles laughing after Patroclus splashed him in the ocean. Right foot, Achilles' bare thighs beside his own. Left foot, Achilles' heart beating beside his as they lay together at night.

Slowly, the water became shallower. He couldn't tell the difference between his eyes open and closed anymore. The blackness had overtaken his vision completely now.

Left knee onto the sand, running his fingers through Achilles hair as he read to him. Right knee onto the sand, Achilles kissing him in a dark corner, unable to wait until they got to their room. Left hand onto the sand, Achilles laughing so hard he had to bury his head in a pillow to smother the noise. Falling to the sand and rolling to his back, facing the sky, Achilles saying "I love you" as they watched the sun rising from the top of their Jaeger, waiting for the helicopters. 

He could hear Automedon stirring next to him, then yelling. Patroclus guessed that he had woken and seen him. He felt the drift break, heard a scrambling of metal, then felt hands on his face, tapping at him, trying to wake him. He thought he heard him yelling his name but it was getting hard to tell. Deep breath in, Achilles kissing his palm. Deep breath out, Achilles making him laugh so hard no sound came out.

Automedon began shouting to what he thought must be the other pilots, which meant they had to be close enough to hear. How had he not heard them coming?

Shallow breath in, Achilles making him spill water all over himself while drifting that first day. Helicopters somewhere in the distance. Shallow breath out, Achilles' smile.

He tried for one more shallow breath in, but faltered halfway through, his lungs unable to hold the air any longer, letting the oxygen slowly seep out his slightly parted lips. Then a sensation of falling. Then nothing.


	8. A Hundred Golden Urns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there's a bit of gore in the first bit.

Automedon woke slowly, his head killing him. He remembered hearing a roaring, then something slamming into his head, then darkness. Slowly forcing his eyes open, he found himself safely on his back and looking up at the stars, the sound of waves coming from beside him and a gentle breeze over head, relief filling him. Whatever had happened, Patroclus had kept them alive and gotten them to safety. It wouldn't look good to the other pilots that he was only awake for two minutes of his first real battle, but he was sure things would be better drifting with Achilles. For his first drop, things could have gone worse.

Turning his head to his right, he meant to make a joke to Patroclus, thank him for keeping them alive, ask if maybe he could make his own part of the battle sound less pathetic when they were all talking about it later, only to be stopped short.

"Patroclus!" Blood. God, there was blood everywhere. He quickly disengaged himself and scrambled over to Patroclus, nearly gagging. His eyes were open and blank, the whites having turned red from what must have been burst vessels, and his right arm seemed to only be barely attached. God, he was going to be sick. He tapped at his face frantically, calling his name, trying anything to make him respond. He hadn't been trained for stuff like this, only Chiron knew how to handle these life and death situations. 

He cast around wildly, spotting the other Jaeger but noting that it was still too far away. He tried waving his arms and yelling to them frantically but they were still too far away to hear him. He was alone with a dying co pilot. God, he didn't know what to do. He kept pushing down on the injured arm, trying to put pressure on what he knew was too large of a wound for him to really be able to help, but he didn't know what else to do. He hadn't been trained for this, Chiron had only trained Patroclus on this. He wanted to cry with relief when he heard the helicopter overhead, getting closer.

"They're on their way, they're gonna fix you and this'll all be fine." He kept babbling what he hoped were words of encouragement, desperately wanting to believe that Patroclus could somehow still hear him. The helicopter was so close, things would be fine, they had to be.

However, at the sound of that final, rattling breath, he knew it was all too late. His breathing had grown shallower and now it seemed like he couldn't hold on any longer, the breath seeping out like a deflating balloon, leaving Patroclus to go limp under his hands, his head falling to the side, the blank eyes staring at nothing. He felt the blood under his hands cease its pumping, the weak pulse disappearing entirely. He sat frozen in shock, staring at the co pilot who had been smiling at him reassuringly not an hour before, now dead right before his eyes. He had never seen anyone die before, never seen how the whole body seemed to collapse like a puppet with its strings cut. He hadn't known so much blood could be contained in one body. Medically he did, mathematically he did. He had seen the diagrams and looked at the empty graduated cylinders that could hold all of it. But not like this, not coming from someone he cared about, not pooling around his knees and covering his hands. It all seemed so surreal that he hoped it was a terrible dream he would wake up from.

The sound of boots hitting the ground came from just outside what was left of the shattered Jaeger head, Chiron sprinting in and moving Automedon to the side, beginning forceful chest compressions. Automedon moved backwards mechanically, suddenly desperate to get as far from the body as possible, his stomach threatening to spill its contents if he continued to breath in the scent of death and drying blood as his boss frantically tried to revive his co pilot. More medics began piling into the head, all jostling each other in a desperate attempt to save the man that had become a dear friend to nearly all of them. Everyone who worked in the sick bay had been taken under his wing at some point, Patroclus offering the same skills and insight as Chiron without the terrifying domineering presence. He was a constant help and friendly face in a job that could often be depressing and discouraging. And now he was dead. Dead.

After what felt like centuries in Automedon's shock-frozen mind, Chiron sat back, defeated. The other recruits yelled at him, demanding to know why he was just giving up, but Chiron said nothing. They all knew why, they just didn't want to admit it. Patroclus had been beyond help far before they had gotten there, they hadn't really stood any chance of saving him. Even if they could have stopped the bleeding, the neural load from piloting alone had damaged his brain beyond repair and would have left him a vegetable at best. Nothing could be done. He was dead before he reached the beach. One of the older boys who had worked with him the longest angrily swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing blood on his face without seeming to notice.

In slow motion, or so it seemed to Automedon, two medics helped him stand as Patroclus' body was lifted onto a stretcher, a sheet laid over him respectfully, covering the terrible wounds. Chiron lifted Patroclus limp hands and folded them over his stomach so they wouldn't hang as they walked, his face impassive. Had Automedon not known him, he would have guessed the loss meant nothing to him. But he could see the slight tremble of his large, calloused hands and the thick way he swallowed, quickly turning from the sheet that was slowly turning pink with the still-seeping blood before striding back to the helicopter. Automedon grabbed for a nearby medical waste bin and vomited.

\--

Achilles paced outside the control room, trying to take calming breaths. Patroclus was fine, of course he was fine. Sure the radio had cut out, but that didn't mean anything. The radios were susceptible to cutting out all the time anyway, and in their five drops together Patroclus had never moved to use it. It was a minor set back, nothing to be worrying himself with. 

A cheering rose from the control room and he let out a breath, sagging against the wall slightly as he heard the head engineer confirm that the second Kaiju was dead. It was over, Patroclus would be heading back to him. He rubbed at his chest, feeling a physical ache of anxiety growing. He hated this, he hated that he put Patroclus in this position. All he wanted was to make Patroclus happy but in practice, it seemed like the one thing he consistently could never do. But that would change after this, it had to. He wouldn't go back on his plan until Agamemnon agreed, but he would still make changes to everything else. Patroclus deserved someone better than him and he was going to be that person. When Patroclus got back, he would prove he could deserve him.

When the engineers announced the helicopter was almost back, Achilles snuck down the stairs to the re-entry point, determined to be the first one there to see Patroclus and make sure there wasn't a scratch on him. He could hear the helicopter approaching, but for some reason the anxiety lodged in his chest only grew. Sliding into the room, he noticed nearly every medic was in there as well, their faces somber. He swallowed. Had someone been hurt? He knew the first Jaeger had been in trouble but he didn't think they could have been in so much that they would need everyone on deck to handle it.

The metal doors slowly opened, the pilots of the first Jaeger walking in slowly, their heads down. The world around Achilles seemed to slow to an agonizing pace. The pilots walked to the side, then Automedon with blood covered hands, then more medics, then Chiron, then two men holding a stretcher covered in a red sheet. Achilles spent a few more moments in numb confusion before the reality hit him, knocking the air out of his lungs. Pushing the medics out of his way, he ran forward.

_"Patroclus!"_

The medics rested the stretcher on the ground and stepped away, Achilles falling next to it and ripping the sheet off, a scream tearing its way out of him. God, no. Not this. Anything but this. Please, not him.

He couldn't think, couldn't breath. Patroclus was just laying there, his head fallen limply to the side, that one persistent lock of hair still sticking up behind his ear. Gently, he reached out a hand, smoothing it with his shaking fingertips before sliding one hand under his head and the other under his shoulders, pulling him up against him and holding on for dear life, burying his face in that soft hair he so loved. He let out a choked sob, holding him tighter. This couldn't be real, this couldn't be his Patroclus. His Patroclus was brimming with life, this one was limp and cold. His Patroclus would have smiled, wrapping his arms around Achilles and nuzzling into his neck. This one wouldn't move. God, why wouldn't he move? Why was he just laying there? Didn't he know how much Achilles needed him? Didn't he know how much Achilles loved him? Why would he just leave him alone?

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and flinched, holding Patroclus tighter. They couldn't touch him, no one else could touch him. He had to protect Patroclus, he had to. He had so much he needed to tell him, he just needed to wake up...

"Pelides, we need to get him down to the sick bay. We need to clean him up before his family gets here to take him home..."

Achilles wanted to scream  _What family?! I'm his family! This is his home! What has his father ever done for him besides abandon him and never bother to see if he was ok?_ But he couldn't. He couldn't make his throat work, couldn't speak beyond the tears rolling down his face. Odysseus slowly disengaged Achilles from the body, pulling him back so the other medics could lift him back up and carry him down to the sick bay, practically holding him up as his legs tried to give out underneath him. When he could, Achilles followed numbly, the others moving away from him like he his misery might be contagious. He reached forward, taking the cold, uninjured hand and threading their fingers together, a strangled noise coming out when those fingers didn't curl around his in turn like they always had. 

Patroclus was laid on a cot in the sick bay that was away from the others, one that was designated for the cleaning of the dead before they were taken from the ship. Achilles had always avoided it. Now he sat at the head of the cot, watching in choked silence as the remaining armor was stripped from Patroclus, keeping a hold on his hand and stroking his hair, brushing it away from his eyes. Patroclus hated when his hair fell in his eyes. It needed to be trimmed, he had said he was going to ask Briseis to trim it for him.

They all looked up at shouting outside, Briseis shoving her way into the room. Her eyes fixed on Patroclus and then Achilles, blazing with a hatred that made him flinch. 

"You! You did this! You and your damn pride!" She lunged forward but another guard grabbed her, holding her back. "Was it worth it? Was letting him die worth your god damn reputation?"

Achilles held Patroclus' hand tighter, his breathing tear-shaken. "I told him not to go! I told him to stay as far away as possible! I told him to run if he was in danger!"

"It should have been you!" She lunged again and the recruits removed her from the room. Their friendship seemed to have died with Patroclus, who had been the only glue to hold their little group together. Or rather, that held Achilles to the group.

Achilles didn't want to admit it, he wanted to blame anyone else, but he couldn't. She was right, it should have been him in that Jaeger. None of this should have happened. He might as well have killed Patroclus himself. He had let his sweet, barely trained medic out into the field alone.

One of the other medics came over with a bowl of water and cloth, Achilles taking them from his hands, wordlessly asking to be left alone for this. Once the medic had left, Achilles began slowly washing off the dirt and blood, allowing his tears to flow freely and mix with the pinking water.

He wanted to tell him he was sorry, that he loved him more than he could ever care about honor or reputation, that being with Patroclus was the greatest part of his life. That he would give anything for him to just come back. He would apologize to Agamemnon in front of the entire crew if that's what would bring him back. But he couldn't speak beyond repeating Patroclus' name, as if saying it enough could finally wake him. When he had finished, making sure he was as clean and respectable as he knew Patroclus would want to be, Chiron came in with a needle and thread and began the terrible and painstaking process of sewing back together Patroclus' mottled arm so it would appear natural under clothing. Achilles kept careful watch over Patroclus' face, willing him to wince or suck in a breath of pain, to do anything to signify that somehow they had all been wrong and he really was alright. But there was nothing. No soft breath of air or twitch of muscle. 

Achilles refused to leave his side that night. He lay with his head on the sturdy chest as he had every night for the months prior, trying to pretend nothing had changed. But he couldn't. There was no lulling, steady heartbeat or gentle breathing, no warm arms encircling him and pulling him closer, no gentle hand rubbing absently at the back of his neck. He simply lay there, cold and still and not his warm, beautiful Patroclus. He refused to sleep the entire night, not wanting to waste a moment of what little time he had left. Tomorrow morning Patroclus' father would come and take him and Achilles... Achilles would be left with nothing. This was the one thing he had left and it would be gone by the morning. Burying his face in the cold, too still chest, he wept, holding Patroclus tight. He refused to let go. If he let go it would become real, and he couldn't let it. Not now. He just wanted to live in denial a little longer, spend a little while more pretending Patroclus was asleep and would wake up like always and smile at him that smile that lit the entire world.

In the morning, two medics came in and dressed Patroclus' body in a suit his father had chosen. Achilles didn't like it. It was black, far too dark. His father always said there was no reason for anyone to own a black suit and he could see why. Patroclus looked too dark and somber, not how he really was. The suit made him look dead. They then put makeup over any existing bruising or scratching and it made Achilles even angrier. Patroclus got those saving three pilots and an entire city of people, but they would cover them all up because it looked better, a more aesthetically pleasing corpse. Achilles insisted on being the one to fix his hair, wanting one last chance to brush the disobedient locks into place. When he had finished, a man who introduced himself as the personal assistant of Patroclus' father came in to inspect the body before his boss did. He looked him over viscerally before pulling out a small canister of wax, using it to smooth the sticking out pieces of hair behind his ears. 

Achilles was put into a suit as well, told he needed to be presentable for the family. The blood was washed from his face and hands and his hair combed for him. He couldn't care less how he looked to this man or any other.

Finally, he came in, and Achilles hated him on sight. He was just like in Patroclus' memories, only with more lines and graying hair. He looked at his son for a moment, no emotions registering on his face, before he turned to Chiron.

"How did it happen?"

Chiron straightened slightly, wearing his own ill-fitting suit. "Saving the lives of an endangered fellow Jaeger as well as a coastal city, all while piloting alone. Sir."

The man smiled humorlessly and nodded in approval, happy that his investment had in fact paid off. He would be on the news and everyone who had heard the story of him pushing the boy would now be thinking it was a good thing, that he became the better pilot than the other boy ever could have. Achilles wanted to lunge over and strangle the man for being happy about his sons death. No, he wanted to drag the man to a drifting chamber and force feed him every memory he had of Patroclus. Every wonderful trait, every good deed, every beautiful smile, he wanted to force this man to acknowledge who his son was, not what he wanted him to be. Patroclus was not just a pilot, he was a medic and a friend and the best of men. But again he stayed silent, standing back as he talked with Chiron, who seemed to be also on the verge of strangling the man who wanted to reduce everything his protege had done to one killing rather than the countless savings.

Once they had finished talking Achilles stepped forward, clearing his throat. "What will you do with him, then?"

He looked up, seeming to only now notice Achilles in the room. "You're Achilles, aren't you? Son of Commander Peleus?"

Achilles nodded impatiently. "Yes. What will you be doing with him?"

He cracked half of that humorless smile. "He'll be cremated along with his mother."

Achilles swallowed. "And the ashes?"

The man shrugged, seemingly bored with the conversation. "I'll put them by his mothers. He never had any specifications about his burial."

_Yes he did_ , Achilles thought.  _He wanted to be buried with me. He wanted our ashes in one urn, so close no one could ever separate us again. He told me this two weeks ago while we were lying together at night on the top deck, watching the stars. Your son loved the stars, he knew the name of every one._ But again, he couldn't say it. Blood had greater legal significance than love and Patroclus had never written down his wishes. Silently, they had both assumed Achilles would be the first to go. Now he was left alone and was powerless to fulfill his loves final wishes. 

Then, Patroclus was put onto yet another stretcher and taken from the room. Achilles didn't notice he had been following him until Chiron gently took his arm and stopped him, pulling him back. Achilles watched them go, kept his eyes on the dark hair and closed eyes until long after they were gone. If he thought he had felt empty before meeting Patroclus, it was nothing compared to now that he had lost him. He felt like an empty shell, ready to crack at the slightest touch. Chiron had led him to a chair and poured them both coffee when Agamemnon and some of the other pilots walked in, the others looking nervous and wary and not nearly as confident as their smug leader.

"Pelides, I think it's high time we put this little feud behind us. We both made mistakes and said things we regret, and I am more than willing to meet half way if you are." Agamemnon extened a hand outwards, Achilles looking at him with dead eyes, nodding silently after a moment, keeping both hands on his mug. Agamemnon brought his hand back but kept going cheerily. "I truly am sorry about your friend, but you must admit, it was quite the way to go. He killed one of the biggest Kaiju we've ever seen by himself."

Achilles kept staring blankly. "He should have let them all die." 

Agamemnon seemed to not know how to answer this, opening and closing his mouth for a moment. "Well, will you come back and fight with us again? We can give you your pick of any pilot in the program." Achilles nodded silently, Agamemnon leaving after realizing he would be getting no more answers out of him, the other pilots following. One of them said that the Aristos would be ready again in a few days. Achilles hated the idea of piloting it without Patroclus beside him. 

That night he went back to his old room. He looked at the sheetless bed, the barren furnishings devoid of life. He ripped the constricting tie off, throwing it off. Then came the jacket, and the shirt. Then he had thrown the mattress, overturned the bed, broken the mirror into hundreds of little pieces, ripped each drawer from the dresser and thrown them against the wall before falling to his knees amidst the chaos, tearing at his hair.

_"PATROCLUS!"_

_\--_

He spent every night sleeping in Patroclus' bed, his face pressed into Patroclus' pillow until his scent left it, so he then began covering it with shirts of his to preserve it. It smelled like rationed generic soap, antiseptic, and clothing detergent. It was a clean smell, a soft and efficient one. It was Patroclus.

He hated sleeping. He couldn't stop himself from dreaming of his death. Every night he held Patroclus as he died, watching the puddle of blood grow around them, begging him not to die. But it never worked, he always died and Achilles could do nothing but clutch him tightly to himself, those blank eyes accusing and hate filled. Every morning he woke up clutching the pillow, breathing raggedly, a strangled cry in his throat.  And once the Aristos was fixed, he lived only for the battles. They were the only places he could hope to either get vengeance on the monsters that killed Patroclus or be killed in the process. He had agreed to continue to pilot with Automedon, never speaking to him more than a few words at a time. It just made it harder. The only part of it he hated was the drifting. He hated having anyone other than Patroclus in his head. What was worse, he hated having to rewatch Patroclus die through his memories each time. He hated the ragged, pained breaths and the sightless eyes. He hated the split second where he could see his heart stop beating.

And he hated the bloodstain on the floor that the engineers hadn't cleaned. 

Drop after drop came and went, Achilles killing them all too easily, even when they became category fours. Every glancing blow he instinctively moved away from, every stab that missed by inches pained him. He wanted it to be over, he wanted it all to end.

Finally, after four weeks of nothingness, something changed. He was sitting listlessly at the roundtable, remembering when he had sat in here daydreaming about Patroclus their second day, when one of their scientists was brought in, saying he figured out a way to get them through the rift to close it. Before, the rift had expelled all their bombing attempts, but now the scientist was saying that if a Jaeger was sent in with a Kaiju, it would be read as just a Kaiju and allowed in, where they could detonate the bomb and stop the attacks permanently. However, they would need someone willing to go through and risk not making it back out.

"I'll do it." Everyone seemed to jump slightly at the sudden sound of Achilles voice after weeks of silence.

Odysseus cleared his throat. "Don't you want to think it over? Or talk to your co pilot?"

Achilles shook his head. "Send me in with a team to clear the way, I'll send him out in an escape raft. I was able to successfully pilot alone for 18 last time, I can hold on long enough to get in and detonate and make sure no one else gets hurt."

Odysseus opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He liked the kid and he wanted to talk him out of it, tell him the whole thing was crazy and way too dangerous a gamble. Only, this was what they needed. Someone they could count on to do the job with minimal damage. And if anyone could do it, it was Achilles. 

"Well then, we'll finish the final repairs to the Aristos and have everything ready within twenty-four hours. Do you need more time than that to prepare?"

Achilles shook his head. "The sooner the better. Pick me a good team and everything will be fine."

The meeting ended and Achilles got up to leave. Peleus put a hand on his shoulder, looking him in his bloodshot eyes. "Achilles, you will try to get out as well, won't you? You won't just give up in there?"

Achilles looked at his fathers worry-lined face and nodded. It wasn't true, but he wanted to make his father feel better. He had done enough damage to the people he loved, he needed to try and make people happy for as long as he could.

He ate in his room that night as usual. Or rather, his and Patroclus' room. He hadn't been in his own old room for a month now and he didn't want to go back. This room was still just like Patroclus had left it. The pictures stuck to the sides of the mirror were still there, some group shots of Patroclus and the other medics or with Briseis and Deidameia. But many were of him and Achilles, squishing their faces into the frame and grinning, one trying to stretch his arm far enough to take the picture and get them in the shot, or giving each other bunny ears, or kissing each other. Sometimes Achilles would spend hours just staring at those pictures. He wanted to take them and keep them on him, but he couldn't bear to remove them. He still remembered Patroclus putting each of them up, trying to find the perfect place for each new one. He said he wanted to be able to see them when he was lying in bed, to make him feel better if he was ever sick or down. Achilles looked to his left, where Patroclus' shoes were still tucked neatly under the dresser so they wouldn't be in the walking path, unlike Achilles who kicked his shoes off anywhere, or the towel that was still placed neatly on a hook he had installed behind the door, unlike Achilles who let it drop wherever he felt like. Patroclus had the perfect place for anything and everything.

Achilles put his face in his hands. It was going to be over soon, one way or another. 

\--

That night was the first he didn't dream about Patroclus dying.

In his dream, they were in their room as usual, just talking. Achilles head was on his lap and Patroclus was running his fingers through his hair. 

"Do you miss me?"

Achilles looked up at him. "More than anything, you know that."

Patroclus nodded and kept stroking his hair. "I'm sorry about what Briseis said. She was just upset, you know she doesn't really hate you."

Achilles shrugged, looking away. "I don't know. She probably does. If she does I deserve it. It was my fault, all of it. I should have done so many things different. It should have been me in that Jaeger. After all this, I don't even care about honor or glory or any of it. I'd take a life of nothingness if it meant I could have you back. I wish it had been me to die."

Patroclus tapped his cheek until he turned back to him, smiling down at him. "And then what? You be the dead one? Please, you'd get so bored being dead without me. At least alive you've got stuff to do. And I can wait."

Achilles took his hand, kissing his palm. "I hate being away from you. I miss you so much it hurts, all the time. It never goes away. I can't stop crying sometimes. " He closed his eyes, keeping that soft hand against his mouth. "Why didn't you stay with me? Why did you leave me?"

Patrclus stroked his cheek with his free hand. "I didn't want to, believe me. More than anything I wanted to get back to you. I just couldn't." Achilles nodded, looking up at his face. Even in a dream he was beautiful, and he hadn't forgotten a detail. He reached up, stroking his hair.

"You would have hated how you looked at your funeral. They messed with your hair, it didn't look right at all. You looked too dead."

Patroclus chuckled. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry you had to deal with my father. I'm sure that didn't make the day any easier."

Achilles smiled at him. He missed this so much. The rest of the dream went the same, idle talk and casual caresses. Achilles woke up with tears on his pillow like every other morning, but this time he was smiling too. He felt at peace for the first time since losing Patroclus. He decided to finally go back to the mess hall.

He sat by himself, having made himself a bit of a pariah with his grieving and enforced solitude, but that was alright. He needed this. The room was filled with the buzz of chatter, everyone hearing that tonight was the night the pilots thought they could finally end the war once and for all. A year ago this might be a cause for anger at losing the chance for so many recruits to become pilots and gain their own glory. But now, with a well loved member having died so soon, as well as how injured the other pilots were becoming on a daily basis, the glamour had worn off and frankly, everyone wanted to just go home. That's why Achilles had to be the one to do this. Because he had no home to go back to. He couldn't take anyone else from their future when he didn't have one.

He looked up to see Briseis staring at him from across the hall. She didn't look angry. She didn't look anything. She was just staring at him, looking as sad and exhausted as he felt. He gave a small salute with his glass before leaving to suit up. 

His father met him in the hallway and held him tightly. Achilles hugged him back, trying not to think that this was their last time together. When his father walked away, he felt like a door had closed between them that he could never again open. He had no choice but to do this.

Automedon was in the Jaeger by the time he got in. He was impressed with the kid, he really was. Not many people could see what he had on their first drop and come back from it but he had. 

Achilles put his helmet on. "When I tell you to eject, do it, ok? We need to make sure to time this thing right. I don't want you getting fried by the blast."

Automedon nodded. "What about you? Won't you get fried if you wait to detonate it by hand?"

Achilles tightened his straps. "Don't worry about me, kid. Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna come out of this a hero, you know that?"

That made the kid blush. "You really think so?

Achilles turned to face him, smiling. "I do. Now come on, let's finish this." He liked Automedon. He was a good kid. He never asked questions about Patroclus or what they had been to each other. He never talked about why he'd done the things he'd done. For someone who lived in his brain part of the time, he was very good at allowing him his privacy. Achilles hoped this whole thing didn't mess him up too bad. Maybe he could become a dentist or something.

He felt the head drop, the familiar half second of weightlessness kicking in before the rockets slowed them to just less than a free fall. He was ready for this. He felt truly ok with everything that was going to happen. 

When the Jaeger dropped to the ocean, he could hear others dropping on either side of him, radioing in that they were ready to do whatever he needed. He hadn't bothered to check who they were. Well, it was too late now. He had to blindly trust him with his life.

"One in front of me and one behind me. Keep your eyes peeled, the scientists say one will be coming out any minute. Kill it quick but keep the body handy if no others come out, I need it to get in."

They both responded in the affirmative and they began moving, slowly submerging themselves. Everything was quiet. He hated to admit it, but it felt too quiet and he didn't know why until it hit him. There was no marine life, anywhere. Usually this far down things would be circling around them, schools of fish, manta rays, even a few sharks or curious dolphins. But there was nothing, and there was only one predator with an effect like this.

Very quietly, he pressed the button for the radio. "No one get too excited, but we're being hunted. It's here."

The radio filled with the other pilots demanding to know where and how he knew, but he stayed quiet. As long as they were aware and on the ready, they would be ok. If it saw them looking at it, it would attack. Out of his periphery he could see it now, weaving behind the underwater mountains. This one had orange eyes. It made him uncomfortable, the slow way it moved, its unblinking eyes following him. It knew to watch him, that hive mind stuff. It recognized him.

He kept them all facing forward and moving to the rift like they planned. He waited until it disappeared from view to warn the pilots in the rear that it was going to hit them. It had barely come out of his mouth when the roar shook the water around them and it came charging in from their right, heading towards them. They were able to get their sword out in time, jamming it through the monster. It wasn't like the category threes though, these were tougher. What would have killed a three only angered this one. He whipped the Aristos around, firing a rocket into the things eye, partially blinding it. Achilles dove at it, grabbing it around the neck and jerking it upwards in a sleeperhold he had learned from Patroclus, the other pilots dragging the sword down it. He pulled it back enough that the claws couldn't reach the other Jaeger. The first Jaeger ran over, slowly lifting its canon to the ready, waiting for his signal. He remembered that Patroclus had told him about this one. It could spit acid in open air but that was useless underwater unless it could bite them, so he gestured to its head, making sure they knew to take out the mouth. He waited for their nod before letting go, kicking it towards them and diving out of the way. The things tail whipped around, hitting their leg before the blast knocked into it.

 The blast blew the things head off but he still waited. With category fours he had to be sure. After a minute of no movement, he grabbed the thing by the tail and began slowly dragging it. Their foot was halfway off and they were both gritting their teeth through the pain of dragging it along with the body. A beep came over the radio, the static voice of the control room telling them there was another Kaiju that came out of the breach. The pilots in the first Jaeger groaned but said they would handle it, the Aristos just needed to keep heading for the rift. 

God, the thing was heavy. Why couldn't they have figured all this science shit out when they were still just dealing with threes? He missed them now. He stopped when he saw the next Kaiju. It was what Patroclus called a Shark Kaiju. The kind that had killed him. Rage bubbled inside of him, hot and blinding. It looked at him, studied him. It was blocking his only path to the rift and it knew it. The other pilots reminded him they would handle it but he wanted to disregard it. He wanted to disregard all of them, drop the dead Kaiju, and kill this thing. This thing was the last thing Patroclus had to see before he died. This bastard killed him!

But he couldn't. Not anymore. He couldn't do what he wanted when he had other people relying on him. He wasn't ruining their whole operation on this. He knew they were trying to goad him. The things, the Masters, were smart, they watched and they strategised, and they knew Achilles almost always acted on emotion alone. But not this time. He wouldn't give them this last satisfaction. 

So he stepped back and the other two launched at it, stabbing it through the neck and dragging it away. With all the dragging, their foot was now officially gone, lost somewhere by where they killed the first Kaiju, slowly their progress considerably. He looked to the fight, noting how far away they had dragged the thing.

"Automedon, I need you to bail."

"What? We're so far away still! You can't all the way there by yourself."

Achilles looked over at him. "I don't want to risk anything happening to you. You need to get out. I can do this. It's fourteen minutes to the rift and I went alone for eighteen minutes before. I'll be ok." He tried for a smile. "Go on, you did everything and more, kid. Let me take this one."

The kid hesitated a moment then nodded, disengaging and allowing himself to be lifted into the evacuation chamber. Achilles waited for the sound of it shooting out before moving again, the pain starting in his head immediately. He had forgotten how much this hurt, and the foot wasn't making it any better. He heard a shout over the radio but it cut out as the monster rammed into him from behind. He dropped the dead Kaiju as he was thrown forward, hitting a rock formation hard and rolling. 

He moved to get up and was hit again from the side. The other Jaegers were running over to help as he tried holding the thing off, his arms trembling under the strain. They grabbed it from behind and tried to drag it away but it was so damn strong, it wouldn't get off him. He could see its snapping jaws inches from his face and the anger resurfaced. All those times he wanted them to kill him and he'd made it out alive. Now he just wanted to live another twenty minutes or so and the thing wouldn't let him. He balled up his fist, yelling for the others to get out of the way, and shoved his hand into its mouth, letting it bite down so he could fire. The thing spasmed wildly and bit down harder as it died, Achilles gritting his teeth but not moving. Finally its jaw slackened and the body went limp, Achilles panting. Now he was down an arm and a leg and he'd dropped the other Kaiju too far away to retrieve, so he had to use this one. Grabbing it with his good arm, he began dragging it to the breach. 

His vision was beginning to swim, he tried to move faster. He was running out of time here. Looping his arm around the things chest, he threw his whole body into it, every muscle screaming at him. He was so god damn tired.

He reached the edge of the breach, boiling water shooting up at him, his shoulders relaxing. This was it. All he had to do was fall. So, giving one last lurch forward, he knocked the thing over the edge and fell with it. The entry opened like a flower, letting them pass through. He made sure to watch and wait til it closed, he didn't want the others to get hit. Then, he disengaged, sighing as the neural load cut out. Everything was so simple now. He took off his helmet, setting it by his feet. Then, slowly, he walked over to the detonation button, staring at it for a moment. He pushed that button and it was all over. He felt like he should feel terrified, but he didn't. Reaching forward he ran his fingers over the button. It was amazing how simple it all would be.

He looked outside the Jaeger at the strange purple world he was in. He wouldn't even die in the same world as Patroclus. There would be no body to be buried. No ashes to be mingled with Patroclus'. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, and pressed the button. There was a three second delay where he worried it was faulty, then a burst of light brighter than anything he'd ever seen, blowing him backwards.

He waited for the hard impact of the metal floor but was met by something soft. He lay a moment, stunned. What did they have in the cockpit that was soft? Emergency blankets? No, those were hard and scratchy. He and Patroclus had been stuck for two hours once and had cuddled close under one of them while waiting during a drop in nearly freezing conditions. No, this was different. He tentatively ran his fingers over it. It reminded him of something. Grass? Did he remember grass? Twelve years of his life had been on a metal boat, he couldn't remember much of grass. But this did seem familiar, the sensation of running barefoot over it on a sunny day, the individual blades sliding under his feet as he raced as far and as fast as his little legs could carry him, his mother or may  a teacher somewhere telling him to get back inside, the sun blazing overhead.

And that was another thing. Why was it still bright? Shouldn't the light be gone by now? He moved to get up, stunned for a moment by the lack of pain anywhere in what had a moment ago been a body pained in every fiber of his being. But soft, strong fingers ran through his hair, a gentle laugh floating over him, and the most beautiful voice in the world saying "I was wondering when you'd find your way here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading through this, I really hope you enjoyed this!


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